The Colony
by Cophinaphile
Summary: 1959 AU, Cosima returns to Reno from the East Coast every summer to work on her stepmother's ranch, but it isn't cattle she wrangles. With Incredible Cover Art by satousei13, to whom I am thankful beyond measure. M rating is for future developments
1. Chapter 1

Having finished her food, she placed the utensils on the edge of her plate and shifted it away from her across the small, round table. Cosima Niehaus had made a decision. She felt certain at this point that the taciturn, yet alluring, blonde was indeed going her way, and though she had struggled for days pondering about how (or if) to proceed, she flagged down the waiter and ordered coffee for two.

They had first made eye contact back in Boston, on the platform.

The steam from the out-bound locomotives made the moisture in the muggy Mid Atlantic air even thicker, more visible. A thin sheen of water clung to the walls, the benches, the baggage, and every inch of exposed flesh in the station. Shiny-faced men stood around, hats in hands, fanning themselves, ties loosened just enough to not be considered indecent for travel. The women, most of whom had pill-box hats still pinned to their meticulously coiffed hairdos, made due with makeshift fans, troubling the heavy air into personal breezes with folded train schedules and repurposed newspapers.

Perched on a glossy,wooden bench reminiscent of pew, Cosima struggled to notice anything except the intense discomfort of the overwhelming heat. In an effort to give respite to her sweltering body, she had attempted to adjust her posture and the lay of her limbs at the exact same moment as the woman on the opposite side of the bench. Their hands brushed over each other briefly before each jerked her hand back closer to her own chest.

"I'm so sorry." Cosima offered, a little too loudly, while simultaneously a hurried "Désolé" fell from the lips of the blonde woman on her periphery.

Having spent the last four years studying neuro-biology at Radcliffe, it was the Latin derivation of the word that caught her attention first, but once her eyes found those of the other woman, ancient tongues were the last kind on her mind.

In the lab, she measured the speed of electrical impulses in the brain in milliseconds, the fractional units of time during which the conscious mind could not exert control or censor the basic impulses of physiology. And it took mere milliseconds for her eyes to lock on the blonde's, quickly bounce away, find vague focus in the opposite direction and send a signal to her brain so potent that the rest of her body vibrated with a flood of warmth.

That had been three days ago, and to Cosima's great delight (or was it bemusement?) she continued to see the tall, slight woman both morning and evening in the dining car of the westbound train. They seemed to take breakfast at about the same time and much earlier than most of the other passengers. Even though they both entered from the caboose side of the car, they seemed instinctively drawn to opposite sides of the shuttle, choosing to settle into richly upholstered chairs whose backs faced the windows and consequently provided each woman a clear view to the opposite side. This meant Cosima was able to practice keeping her breath and blood at bay when she heard the French woman's coffee order slide between her lips, or when their eyes inevitably met and darted away from each other across the expanse of other staged yet empty tables.

Though Cosima guessed initially, from her obvious linguistic heritage, that the blonde would disembark in Sault Ste. Marie and continue on into Canada, she had surprisingly continued her travels around the Great Lakes and, now that they were pulling out of Chicago, it seemed certain that her destination must be on the West Coast. No Mormon woman looked quite like this.

Cosima, accustomed to this journey, had become a bit of an expert at picking out the women who were en route to The Colony. Some were too obvious; the ones who freely allowed tears to streak through their eye make-up, transferring it to the soaked handkerchiefs wrapped around fingers, dabbing the perpetual wetness away. These women were the ones whose husbands had compelled them to get on the train, whose beds and homes were already being taken over by the nannies or secretaries for whom they had been forsaken.

These were the women who either broke or blew up in The City of Broken Vows. Some of them would never recover; their sorrow would over-steep into bitterness and mask, indefinitely, the sweetness of their youth. Others would experience a gestalt; a sudden realization that they deserved better than what had been done to them. These women became bold, lively and ran head long into the recklessness of youth that they had abandoned for the fabled "safety" of marriage. In either case, these husbands got exactly what they paid for: six weeks of physical distance that invariably led to a lifetime of silence.

Other women, harder to spot, made propriety their religion. They kept routines, and dressed impeccably, and they wore masks of kind concern and earnest gratitude when interacting with waiters and porters, hanging on to the last vestiges of normalcy and respectability before becoming sullied by legal decree. In truth, it was often very difficult to tell them from women bound for San Francisco or Los Angeles, except that they all played the same torturous game with themselves.

Cosima would watch them, sitting alone, in between courses or right at the end of their meals. They would worry at the rings on their left hands, eventually slipping them off and setting them on the linen-covered table top, entertaining, for only a millisecond, the life in front of them before snatching the rings back up and sliding them on, anchored again to what lay behind. At least for a few more weeks.

There were, of course, other types of future divorcees on board, but they were starlets, or the very wealthy, sequestered in private luxury cars. These were the women who embraced their "Reno-vation" from the get-go; who longed already to be ensconced at the famous dude ranches, like the Flying ME, and have torrid affairs with willing cowboys while they patiently waited for their freedom.

Cosima, over the years, had learned it was best not to start chatting with the women who would take up temporary residence in her hometown; they tended toward the melodramatic or the ironic and in either case, Cosima had grown bored with each disposition in its turn. The blonde, however, didn't fit either type of run of the mill divorcee, and though her attire implied wealth enough, she had chosen to travel coach class, which on such a long journey would have been unusual for a woman of any significant means. All of this, plus the absence of a ring on her left hand, had led Cosima to believe that Reno wasn't her final destination.

On this fourth day of their mutual travel, Cosima had managed to get control of her more primitive impulses enough that she thought she might strike up a conversation with the woman and not succumb to idiocy. No reason she shouldn't delight her own senses and sensibilities while traveling across the expanse of the Great Plains. Dressed in burgundy slacks and a black silk shirt, she asked the waiter to deliver a small pot of coffee and an extra cup to the table occupied by the ivory-skinned beauty reading Life magazine by lamplight, who sat draped in a white blouse and black slacks, hair pinned into a neat bun at the nape of her neck.

Before she made her way across the car, Cosima took a moment to notice how the warm light danced in her eyes and accentuated the jut of collarbone visible at the top of the white blouse, whose first two buttons lay open; the view was partially obscured by the woman's right hand as it lazily swayed the charm on her necklace from side to side. If Cosima made her peace with it now, she might not make it awkward by staring at the woman's chest when she sat down.

She sauntered over to the blonde's table. Swaying her hips in benign but delicious flirtation that only she perceived, she was certain. "Would you mind of I joined you?"

Cosima's words confused the blonde at first. She looked around for some other recipient of the brunette's inquiry before replying, a thickly accented, "I'm sorry; are you talking to me?"

"I am. Yes." Cosima clarified. "Oui, je me permets?" she added, pulling out one of the only French pleasantries she could recall.

The seated woman's eyes smiled at the familiar words. "Est-ce j'ai l'air de me sentir seule?" the blonde inquired innocently, holding eye contact with a suddenly flustered Cosima, who some how failed to reckon that speaking French might give the impression that she could actually hold a conversation in the language.

Her mouth fell agape and after several false starts, she finally chuckled at herself and shook her head defeated, a warm blush creeping up her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I have sort of exhausted all of the French I know; except for hello and goodbye…. I guess I skipped hello, didn't I? ummmm, bonjour. " She noticed the woman's face break into a barely perceptible smirk as she gave a slight chuckle. "So, I'm guessing you either speak English or are terribly amused by people who can completely change color on cue." Her fingers twisted small tornadoes each around the others as she tried to save face.

"I do speak Engish, oui, and I asked you if I looked lonely." This caught Cosima off guard; she hadn't meant her request to insult the woman and it horrified her to think that maybe she had, but then the blonde's subtle smirk grew even wider and Cosima felt more at ease.

"You? Lonely? No way. That was all me. I'm the lonely one…." Cosima settled one arm onto the back of the blonde's chair and leaned into it. "But, you did look alone and have for several days, and since you are alone and I am alone, and maybe a little lonely, I thought we might be alone together, y'know, in the same space." She gestured, pointing between the two of them and then to the mostly empty table. "I asked the waiter to bring some coffee over, so you kind of have to say yes."

"Oui, je comprends." The blonde's smile continued to stretch across her face. Then she leaned forward toward Cosima, a somber countenance falling over her features and a whisper cascading from her lips, "But there are many other passengers here who are alone, non? Would they not like to be alone with us too? Vraiment, some of them I have noticed look very, very lonely." And even though she was describing the compliment of people lingering in the dining car over coffee, her eyes never left Cosima's, who lowered herself into the chair opposite her new companion as she spoke.

"Very true." She added, her body language mirroring the blonde's. "They do look lonely, but I make it my habit to avoid the 'dudes' heading West. They are much more fun traveling back East at the end of the summer, after it's all said and done… you know." Cosima intimated, but the blonde had not followed her.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand…. 'dude'?" a crease formed between the blonde's eyes, and Cosima thought about continuing to speak in slang and vaguery just to keep it adorably in place, but instead made to clarify.

"Oh sorry, yeah, see I'm from Reno, yeee-haw, and every summer I ride back home from Boston to work on my stepmother's guest ranch. 'Dudes' is slang . It's what we locals call the folks who move into town for the summer while they are establishing residency, so they can…" She mimed removing a ring from her left ring finger and tossing it away.

"Oh yes, I see." The blonde nodded. "It is hard, I imagine. Perhaps, they don't have much to feel good about right now."

"Yeah, it's pretty heavy for sure, and I totally understand that it's helpful to talk about this stuff when you are going through it, but after seven summers, my empathy well is sort of tapped dry. The stories are all so sad, and they all end the same way." Cosima had leaned even farther forward, not wanting to be heard by the entire dining car. "That's why I came over here to visit with you. I noticed you back in Boston, and since I am sort of an expert, I guessed you weren't heading for Splitsville. I also noticed you were reading LIFE. The photo essays are my favorite. I'm Cosima, by the way."

Unconsciously, the blonde had mirrored her body language, so that they were both now completely leaning over their crossed arms toward the center of the table. She looked like she was going to say something, having inhaled deeply and letting her mouth hang open as her brow twisted slightly. But then her mouth closed and her countenance relaxed. She exhaled smoothly and offered, almost as a whisper, "Delphine." "Enchantée." She added with a slight nod.

"Enchantée," Cosima responded.

"So, if we are not going to share ourselves with the 'dudes,' Cosima, what should we talk about?" It took her a moment to answer. She was distracted, savoring the sound of her name on the woman's lips, and brought back to reality when the waiter placed the coffee pot, cups and creamer at the edge of the table and she heard Delphine speak again, "Merci."

"Well, ummmmm, what took you to Boston? I thought you were on your way up to Canada." Cosima hoped she wasn't prying.

"I do not live in Boston anymore, though my lawyer still does. I had business with him before heading West. I have been in Amherst for the last four years at University."

"Beauty and brains, huh? Very impressive. What are you studying? I'm at Radcliffe, neuro-biology." Cosima added at the end.

"That, too, is very impressive. I am studying genetics." A smile erupted across Cosima's face. "There are fascinating developments on the horizon." Delphine offered. "You've heard of Watson and Crick, non? They have given us a physical model of the very stuff that makes us possible, DNA. It is very exciting." Delphine had suddenly become very animated. She had begun to speak with her hands, fingers splayed out and wrapping in lazy circles at the wrist. Cosima wanted to reach out and grab one! Instead, she laced her own fingers together and tapped her thumbs together too quickly.

"Yeah, absolutely, I've heard of them; their work is helping us understand the structure of the human brain. It's heavy man, and totally complex." Delphine smiled broadly.

"Yes, it is, complex" She stretched last syllable playfully, appreciating Cosima's choice of word. "Since we are talking about complex things, may I ask you a question, Cosima?"

"Feel free." Dephine's eyes closed slightly as her head cocked sideways, she was clearly confused and Cosima realized she would need to limit her use of colloquial expressions, "Yes, please do. Ask anything you want."

"Ok, merci. Since you are….like me…a woman in the sciences, how do you find it?"

"Oh, umm… well I guess I must find it engaging and stimulating otherwise I wouldn't study it." She grinned at the blonde, impressed with her own wit.

"That is not what I meant; I'm sorry English is not always my…" Delphine made to explain, but Cosima interrupted her.

"No, don't apologize, your English was in the groove, that means right on by the way, and I think I knew what you were asking; I was just being...

"Cheeky"

"Yeah, cheeky… On purpose. Sorry" Cosima noticed that their hands lay close enough together on the table that she could reach a finger out and stroke the back of Delphine's hand. Her eyes lingered a little too long and Delphine wondered aloud.

"So, what did you think I was asking?"

"Right, I guessed that you were asking how it feels having to compete with men all the time?"

"Oui,mais, perhaps not competing but having to prove yourself to your peers. That you are more than their secretary or assistant. I am the only woman in my program, so I do not have a confidant, per se. I am curious what your experiences have been."

"Well, your thoughts are safe with me for sure, but I'm not sure how much I can commiserate yet… I sort of cheat." Cosima's favorite crease made its appearance in the center of her companion's brow… "Radcliffe is a women's college still. Pesky private school rules and all. Harvard just isn't ready for estrogen yet."

"I see" Delphine pondered the implications of gender segregation for a moment, before continuing. "Well that must be refreshing."

"I suppose it must be, but it is my normal so I'm kind of used to it. You should come visit sometime; we are practically neighbors. That way you could feel it out for yourself. I could be your own private tour guide."

"Merci, I'm certain it would be different."

"It would have to be I guess."

"C'est vrai." A silence fell over them, but not necessarily an awkward one. Delphine, who was looking into Cosima's eyes, tucked her lip under her teeth, a nervous habit Cosima had observed several times over the last few days. Cosima was about to make a move toward the coffee pot just to break the silence, when Delphine broke their mutual gaze and released her lip from its prison to speak. "So you work on a ranch for the summer. That must be interesting; do you work with the animals? Wrangle cattle… I think they say, non?" Delphine inquired.

"Yes, that is what they say… but it's not exactly what I do." Cosima hesitated briefly, wondering if she should have just run with the assumption and let it lie. Offerred one of the thousands of anecdotes about Shioban's cowhand's she held in reserve for dinner conversation and to alleviate ennui and claimed it as her own personal narrative. Rather she offered the truth, "Actually, I do wrangle, just not cattle. I am what they call a dude wrangler."

"But didn't you say…" Delphine puzzled.

"I did, I did say that. I help the folks who live at the ranch stay busy and manage their affairs while they are in town. It really can be confusing and scary, so we try to help in any way we can. So you see, I'm not really that cold-hearted. I just know I have an entire summer of hand holding ahead of me; I don't really want to start on the train."

Delphine nodded along. "I suppose that is understandable. Well, I promise, I will not require you to hold my hand while we converse." She grinned at the brunette simply. Cosima's stomach flipped over; the blood retreating from her face in disappointment.

"Right," Cosima droned, nodding. "Great, good, obviously. So, Delphine, what brings you out West? What is your final destination?"

"Oh, no….I would not wish to burden you. I understand your empathy well is tapped dry, non?" Delphine said slyly, a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips.

"Hey, only for the sad sacks heading to the Bridge of Sighs; for you, I am all ears! Where are you heading?" Cosima goaded.

"I love the way you talk, mon dieu. What is this Bridge of Sighs?" She released a breathy chuckle and quirked her head sideways.

"Right down the street from the Reno courthouse, one block south is a bridge over the Truckee River. It's called the Bridge of Sighs because it is the spot where the forsaken women of the west stop to remove their wedding rings and fling them into the river! It can be terribly sad, liberating, empowering, romantic, therapeutic… it all depends on the timing and the individual. My step-brother jokes about wading into the river at midnight and panning for broken dreams to go pawn; he'd probably never have to work again!"

"Really? The women do this? As a symbol or gesture?" Delphine marveled, a slight melancholy infecting her previously playful tone.

"Yeah, I've been with quite a few of them when they do it."

"More hand holding, non?" she offered dryly.

"Yeah I guess so, but not in a bad way.

Delphine sat up straight, suddenly increasing the distance between them for the first time since they began talking. She stared down at the table, hands nervously picking at the edge of the table cloth, then reaching back to the center to gently squeeze the hand of her companion. "I'm disembarking in Reno in two days, Cosima. I'll be staying at the Riverside for the next six weeks; perhaps we will see each other… perhaps even on the Bridge of Sighs."

Cosima closed her eyes, letting the full weight of her supposition and stupidity wash over her. "Shit, Delphine. I'm so sorry."

"It's OK. Good night Cosima. Thank you for the coffee" And she stood up and walked out of the dining car without once looking back into the eyes of the woman whose gaze was glued to her back, their untouched pot of coffee cooling on the table's edge.

**AN: **obviously, I would very much like to know what you think, so please feel free to let me know by review or PM. And a big thank you to pmonkey815, one amazing individual, for beta reading this chapter! and I would be remiss if I didn't thank zephyrchild for the the research on french phraseology!


	2. All Aboard

Cosima's eyes fluttered open experimentally as the first hint of daylight infused the predawn portrait out her roomette window; the gentle rocking motion of the train coaxed her further into wakefulness, but kept her simultaneously content to be prone in her otherwise utilitarian fold-out bed. It took only a fraction of a moment, however, for her conscious mind to rise from the depths of somnolence and erase that feeling of easiness altogether. Instead she became a bit nauseous; the pressure of emotional weight in her solar plexus threatening to ruin her relationship to food indefinitely.

She had hoped to spend the next two days in a harmless, one-sided flirtation; a little emotional dalliance to fuel her summer fantasies. Her past flirtations had never failed to make women giggle, blush or even play the role of sighing ingénue to her brazen cad. Although she knew it unlikely that any object of her affection would ever permit her to cross the boundary between playfulness and passion, she still sought out opportunities to walk that fine line, finding that their confused arousal inspired satisfaction in her romantic imagination.

But Delphine's sudden exit last evening had shattered the illusion that the blonde might ever blush at her innuendos. And even though Cosima wasn't the sort to wallow in guilt (especially not when the injuries she caused were accidental), her recollections of the insensitive things she had said mingled with memories of Delphine's unflinchingly calm reactions and overwhelmed her with regret. She felt compelled to apologize to the blonde and resolved to do so at breakfast.

She wrestled her twisted blankets into a tidy pile and folded the stiff bed back into its daytime "bench" position. She turned on the trickle of water in the roomette basin, splashing it into her eyes, over her face and offering her queasy stomach a small sample, before using a cloth to clean her underarms and her more delicate places.

Feeling fresh enough, she dried off and slipped into her grey pedal pushers and white pop over top, finishing the ensemble with a comfortable steel blue, cropped sweater. She slid her glasses on, checked her look in the small fold out mirror, and decided it was best not to rely on its distorted feedback, which threatened to intensify rather than alleviate her emotional discomfort. Instead, she applied a quick sheen of lip gloss and ran a brush through her wavy brown tresses one more time, smoothing them down with her palms, before she stepped out into the corridor and turned toward the sounds of life to the right.

The sun was just cresting the horizon as Delphine approached the dining car, the smell of warm sugar and fresh coffee pulling her forward. Through the glass window of the sliding door, she scanned the car looking for her companion from the previous night, hoping her own awkward retreat would not have caused the other woman to alter her morning routine. She recognized Cosima immediately, seated at the same table they had shared hours earlier, a steaming cup sitting to her right, her attention on the table in front of her, specifically on pencil marks she was scratching onto the pages of a small leather-bound book.

Steeling herself with a deep intake of oxygen, Delphine drew her lips into a tight smile and fixed her eyes on Cosima. She slid the door to the dining car open; the other woman's attention pulled immediately by the sound of the door heaving in its track. Cosima pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, tensing in recognition as their eyes met; Delphine noticed the shift in body language and offered a slight wave, which Cosima acknowledged with a smile and wave of her own. Delphine approached the table, the low slung skirt from her shirt-waisted dress swaying gently as she walked. "May I join you?" she inquired, perhaps too friendly considering how she had last spoken to Cosima, so she added deferentially, "If you are not too busy with your work, that is."

Cosima blinked several times, a puzzled expression painted across her features. She had expected she'd be forced to seek out Delphine's company in order to apologize, and it knocked her of balance to be on the receiving end of this solicitation. "My work? No, no not possible. I'm just, well, doodling really. Please, sit down; would you like some coffee?" Cosima signaled the waiter to come, as Delphine took the seat across from her.

"Yes, that would be nice." Their eyes found each other again and Delphine added with a smile, "We seem to have wasted our opportunity last night, non?"

"Uh, Yeah..." Cosima replied, the small hint of a curiosity tugging at her voice. She requested another coffee from the waiter before asking Delphine, "Are you hungry?"

"I am, actually. Very." Her eyes left Cosima's as she ordered a soft-boiled egg and a croissant from the waiter. "S'il vous plait." The waiter tipped his head toward Cosima.

"Can I bring you any food, Miss?"

"Ummm," the mild nausea that had plagued Cosima since rising seemed, almost instantly, to have dissipated in response the blonde's affable tone since her arrival; its absence signaled by a rather loud churning in her her abdomen. "Yeah, actually, I guess I better eat something. Can you bring me an egg, poached-soft, on toast?... actually, make that two eggs, poached-soft, on toast."

"Of course, Miss." And he turned to walk away.

"Thank you." Cosima called behind him.

Silence hung briefly between them, Cosima using her pencil as a place holder, carefully shut her journal. Each time their awkward gazes crossed paths, their smiles grew incrementally; it was Cosima who finally spoke. "Delphine, please let me apologize for last night." she asked earnestly. "I don't know how I got so turned around, but I swear I was not trying to insult you; it's just that…"

"Cosima." Delphine interrupted, just as the waiter returned with her coffee. She offered him a dismissive 'merci' and made a long slow pour of cream into her cup, swirling it slowly with her spoon. Cosima inhaled sharply and opened her mouth to continue, but Delphine stopped her mid-breath with a raised hand. "I think perhaps I should go first." she mused.

"OK." Cosima stilled her body, the pressure in her chest returning, limiting both her appetite and the volume of her voice.

Delphine, elbows perched on the tables edge, used both hands to bring her coffee to her lips and cautiously took a slow sip. Her line of sight landed on the wall just over Cosima's right shoulder, and as she withdrew the cup from her lips, she caught the remnants of her first sip with her tongue. Cutting her eyes back toward the brunette, she began "You are a scientist, non?"

"Ummmmm, yes," Cosima confirmed, unsure if the question had been rhetorical.

"And as a scientist, I assume you are familiar with Occam's Razor, oui?" She still held the coffee cup with two hands just in front of her chest, a self-satisfied smile forming on her lips.

"Mmhmmmmm." Cosima hummed. "Yeah, of course."

"Which tells us… what chérie?" Delphine challenged, taking another sip of warm liquid.

"Wait," Cosima's face twisted in uncertainty, you want me to explain Occam's Razor to you?" Cosima toyed with the rim of her own coffee cup, tracing its curves with her nervous fingertips. This conversation was certainly not what she had expected.

"Oui." Delphine affirmed, eyebrows arched playfully in challenge.

"Why? Am I being graded?" she mused quizzically.

"For someone who was just asking for my forgiveness, you are very resistant to following my lead." Delphine teased, finally placing her beverage back onto the table. Arms now folded in front of her, the self-satisfied smile now a full-fledged smirk. Cosima wondered, vaguely, if she was on the opposite side of a flirtation; she was certainly disarmed by this charming woman.

"Okay, okay." Cosima acquiesced. "Occam's Razor tells us that when you are faced with two hypotheses which lead you to the exact same conclusion that the simpler of the hypotheses is likely true."

"Correct, very good." Delphine offered.

"Thanks. I think." Cosima replied.

"Now, tell me about anomalies." Delphine demanded gently.

"Anomalies?" Cosima clarified. "Like unexpected or unusual occurrences?"

"Oui, scientific anomalies." Delphine confirmed.

Cosima was amused and flustered all at once. It was obvious Delphine was leading her through an intentional thought exercise, but she could not decipher it at all. Frankly, she was intrigued. It reminded her of the Socratic methods of her grad school teachers; of course, none of them made her feel quite as unsteady as her new companion, for reasons not entirely related to intellect.

After establishing a line of thinking, she began, "Well, anomalies are interesting because they defy the normal expression of reality as defined by scientific understanding."

"Mmmmmm." Delphine appraised. "Continue, s'il te plait."

Cosima complied, "They are useful because they can help us problematize our thinking about what we perceive as rational, normal, natural or correct, which" she added with genuine delight, "seems contradictory because anomalies are often rooted in legitimate, albeit rare, expressions of natural mechanisms." Cosima paused, waiting for her next task.

"Is that all?" Delphine asked.

She quickly added, "Of course, anomalies can also be appreciated simply for the elegance of their absolute idiosyncrasy."

"I concur." Delphine smiled. She reclaimed her coffee and sipped again.

"That's it?" Cosima inquired. "Did I pass?"

Delphine chuckled now. "Yes, and if we apply our mutual understanding of Occam's razor and the utility of scientific anomalies to our conversation last night, you will forgive me, if I reject your apology and ask to offer my own in it's place."

"You know Delphine, I am pretty smart, but I'm not sure I'm following you," Clearly still entertained by the conversation's nebulous intent, she added adamantly, "And I am really not sure that you owe me any sort of apology."

"Non, Cosima; I thought about you, about this… situation all night, and I am convinced I am correct about this; I assure you. And, if you will indulge me, I can prove it." Delphine winked.

Cosima, who between the "chérie," the wink, and the "you" was unraveling a little at the edges, gestured to the space in front of them, happily inviting Delphine to continue, "By all means. Please, proceed."

"You see, if one encounters an anomaly, say a married woman not wearing a wedding ring," Delphine displayed her still empty left ring finger, "what might Occam's Razor compel one to believe about this anomalous woman?"

Cosima shook her head, chuckling softly to herself and completely in awe of Delphine's adorable intellectual meandering. "Occam's Razor would suggest that she is not married."

"Correct, even though a competing hypothesis may have existed. And if this anomalous woman, given many opportunities to correct this totally understandable mistake, fails to do so, Occam's Razor might also lead one to believe that this same woman was a liar." Cosima's face shrank in disapproval at Delphine's self-deprecating statement.

"Delphine, don't say that." Cosima chided.

Delphine, whose voice and face had shifted from playfulness to gravity, continued "I would not want you to think of me as a liar, so please let me apologize and explain."

"It's really not necessary." Cosima assured her, hands cutting circles through the air in front of her as if to erase the entire event.

"That may be, but I would like to all the same. Even if you do not require it, it will make me feel better." Uninterested in denying Delphine her right to be correctly understood, Cosima sighed and nodded.

"Merci, Cosima. Merci beaucoup." A softness settled over the blonde, starting in her eyes, then loosening the emphatic line between her eyebrows that had last night indicated confusion, but most recently gave testament to the earnestness of her desire to apologize, finally cascading through her body in a wave that allowed her to sink comfortable into her dining chair. "You see, I don't have many relationships with women my own age for very particular reasons," Delphine began, "and I was so surprised to find anyone, especially a contemporary, possess such a cavalier attitude about marriage, and especially, divorce, that I wanted to hear more. So I just let you talk, and then it became clear that we had so much more in common than our unconventional regard for matrimony, that I found myself wishing we could be friends…. even though you stated that I am exactly the kind of person you would wish to avoid right now."

Cosima continued to listen intently, disbelief fueling an strong desire to interrupt, she was determined to hold her tongue until Delphine was finished. "It seemed that letting you believe a lie about me was a terrible way to start a friendship, and I did not know what to say to you besides the truth, so I just said it. I walked away because I did not wish to see your attitude toward me alter. I'm sorry Cosima; it was rude of me. Je suis désolé."

It seemed incredible that Delphine was claiming responsibility, when Cosima felt so strongly that it had been her fault. Unable to contain herself she retorted, "So, let me get this straight," Cosima's hand, finger pointed, bounced emphatically between the two of them as she checked her reasoning, "you thought I would be upset with you for not correcting my presumptuous judgments about your life?"

"Perhaps a little, oui." She blushed as she nodded her head, hands folded in front of her on the table.

It was Cosima's turn to cover Delphine's hands with her own. "Not. At. All. In fact, I also thought about this all night, and I think I came on way too strong. I don't blame you for not knowing how to handle me. In fact, I came here this morning, despite feeling physically ill over how I treated you, just hoping you would allow me to apologize." Delphine's top hand turned over to intentionally squeeze Cosima's.

"So we are both sorry; and neither has a need to be, is that the situation?" Delphine smirked.

"Oui!" Cosima agreed!

"So friends, then?" Cosima, in answer, returned a prolonged squeeze of Delphine's hand.

Delphine's tranquil expression turned arch once more as she inquired, with more than a hint of mischief, "And what about my status as a "dude"? Is this not a problem? It seems I've already found a way to get you to hold my hand and we are not even in Reno yet." Again, the millisecond response of Cosima's parasympathetic nervous system forced a flush into her cheeks and a pool of warmth elsewhere.

"Well," she leveraged the flood of desire to make her bold, "using the paradigm we've established for this conversation, I guess I'll say it this way: you, Delphine, are an anomaly that I think I can learn to appreciate, simply for the elegance of your idiosyncrasies." It was Cosima's turn to wink, and the obvious blush that crept up Delphine's neck instantly rewarded her.

"So tell me about these doodles in your journal." Delphine suggested, releasing Cosima's hand and scooting her chair around the table to sit next to rather than across from her companion.

"Well, they are actually golgi stain progressions of human brains age 0 to 2." Cosima clarified.

"Non," Delphine gasped, "Fascinating." Her fingers delicately tracing the web of lines on the page in front of her "and you are drawing them by hand? You working from the original images, non?"

"These were from originals yes; I had to leave those in the lab obviously, but when I need to relax I like to trace them; we've been exploring redundancies in neural pathways in the lab. It's kind of morbid, I know, but it is easiest to see the patterns of development in the brains of infants and juveniles." Delphine looked at the intricate, intersecting pathways of black lines cascading down the page; they reminded her of a dense root system, not that of tree whose root connect to the trunk in increasingly thicker ropes, but more like the expansive root systems of grass which are thinner and spread out in inch thick sheets under the topsoil. "See, if we flip back two pages here, see… those are neurons of a newborn, see how sparsely connected they are?" Delphine nodded affirmatively; Cosima slowly turned the pages, adding, "Then here is the same brain at six months and one year old."

"It is remarkable, isn't it. How much we still have to learn about the most basic aspects of our biology?" Delphine marveled.

"Said the geneticist!" Cosima laughed. "So what have you been working on, if you don't mind me asking."

"Of course I do not mind, mon dieu. It is so, how does one say," she paused, grasping for the correct word in English to express her relief, "refreshing to meet someone who is actually interested." Delphine offered.

"Oh, I am definitely interested." Unavoidable innuendo dripped from her words. Cosima wondered if it went unnoticed.

"Well, we are attempting to correlate certain disorders with chromosomal variation; In France, Lejuene is very close to publishing his work on Down Syndrome. My research focuses on disorders that effect the expression of sex traits in particular. So you see, if your work is morbid, mine must certainly be labeled provocative." Delphine quipped and smiled slyly.

"So what I am hearing you say," Cosima pressed the analogy, "is that your work focuses on understanding anomalous genetic expression; is that right?" Cosima smiled back, giving Delphine a gentle nudge.

"Absolument, c'est vrai." Her hazel eyes fixed gently on Cosima's, "It seems we both can appreciate the elegance of divergence."

The arrival of their food broke the playful tension strung between them, and they ate enveloped in companionable silence, until Delphine observed how similar their tastes were, each using her preferred bread to bring the rich, warm yolk to their mouths. Cosima moaned her delighted agreement halfway through a bite. When their dishes had been cleared, neither woman made a move to leave the dining car.

"I guess we can't stay here all day." Cosima observed, looking around the car for something to focus on but finding nothing.

"Non, I suppose that is true." Delphine agreed; she also seemed to be searching for an elusive something in the space around them, some reason to stay rooted to the spot.

It was Cosima who finally ventured a suggestion; an affected chivalry and western accent imbuing her words, "Well, ma'am, if you are not busy for the next little while, would you permit me to accompany you to the Pleasure Dome?" her cowboy persona broke as she smirked at her own cheekiness.

"Excuse me, " Delphine's jaw dropped. "That cannot be what it sounds like, I think."

"That depends," Cosima dared, "What does it sound like?"

"Oh, no, no, no. I am not walking into that trap; just take me to this Pleasure Dome, Cosima!"

"Anything for you darlin'." Cosima dropped back into character and offered a hand that Delphine took easily, and she led the giddy blonde out of the dining car.

**AN: **Just wanted to acknowledge GeekMonkeyNow's fic Science in the Black! The chapter 1 title "Occam" was so clever that it lodged in my brain and inspired Delphine's strategy for engaging Cosima in this chapter. Thanks for the smart writing GMN!


	3. Tickets, Please

Delphine was awestruck. How had she never perceived the depth of the night sky before?! She had chosen to spend these late hours of her last night on the steamer train in the plush, reclining chairs of the Pleasure Dome car, for the view as much as the solitude, but she had not expected such revelation in her observations.

What had always seemed a two-dimensional canvas, dotted with twinkling lights, now receded into incredible dimension above her head. The infinite field of stars slipped across her field of vision as the train steamed across the Utah desert, pulling her gaze deeper and deeper until it became clear to Delphine that the night sky never was a canopy at all. With out the light pollution of the eastern seaboard obscuring her view, her faculties could recognize the endless nature of the heavens, stretched like successive layers of embellished gossamer. She was able to look past the brightest, foregrounded stars, to notice the details of expansive layers behind. With a steady, patient and languorous gaze, her eyes were able to penetrate further and further through the veil and reach toward the infinite. It simultaneously soothed and excited her imagination.

She had often found the same thing true with more terrestrial concerns; that it was the moments her mind was completely relaxed, almost on the precipice of sleep, when she was able to recognize possibilities obscured to her conscious thoughts, to see seemingly unrelated details as part of a greater truth. For example, if asked directly, she would not have stated that it had been her plan to ensconce herself in this spot for the better part of the night, but her decision to bring an extra sweater now surreptitiously doubling as an inadequate blanket would belie that fact. As she attempted to tuck her long legs and stocking clad toes far enough up onto the generous seat to benefit from the sad warmth of her makeshift coverlet, she found herself unexpectedly content.

Contentment, she had presumed, would always be just out of her grasp, ostensibly, because she lacked the disposition or inclination to live only half of a life. In the last few days, however, she had not felt the strange hollowness that had plagued her for so many months. As she embarked with a resolved, if solemn, heart toward the half-life that only her Grand'mére seemed to think was worthy of her, the empty, longing feeling that she knew was unexpectedly and inexorabley tied to matrimony had been noticeably absent.

No one, not her Maman, her Pére, her brother, her classmates, her friends and certainly not her husband, could fathom her rejection of the domestic bliss of married life for the isolation of academia. But then again, none of them inhabited her skin. None of them had experienced the profound frustration she felt when her girlfriends merely tolerated stories about her work in the lab, yet pried with insatiable and disproportionate curiosity about the content of her dinner conversations with Phillip. None of them understood the disdain with which she received the vacuous squeals of delight and jealous congratulations than rained upon her when anyone noticed her engagement ring, but that had been obviously absent upon the attainment of her degree. None of them understood the profound foolishness that she felt when picking out her china pattern, wallpaper patterns, flatware and appliances. None of them endured the ennui she felt entertaining her mother, who troubled over the minutest details such as the difference between ecru and eggshell, chiding her own indifference and implying that a wrong move now might mar the first years of her marriage irreparably. "What would Phillip's mother say if you chose something too modern? You know how these old money families are Delphine; now come look at this one." As if any of this mattered to her… or at all, in the grand order of the universe.

No, none of these people, her people, understood her, and she had failed too many times to find the language to explain herself. How could she explain the panic-stricken flutter of her heart whenever anyone asked her how long before she would quit her studies and start a family? How could she explain the rage that threatened to spill over her edges every time Phillip laughed too loudly at the dismissive jokes his friends made when she ventured a thought on politics, economics or government? "Watch out for this one, Phillip! She's liable to get up to no good!" How could she explain that her marriage, though advantageous to her father's business interests, made her feel like a prostitute, especially when Phillip condescendingly stroked her hair and called her "baby", explaining why it would be best for her to "forget that 'science business' and focus on making our house a home." How could she expect anyone to accept that that "science business" felt like a more genuine expression of her true self that a thousand immaculately presented dinners ever could?

She had spent years trying to distinguish herself at Woodward and then at University in order to be prepared for an egalitarian world she could sense in the not so distant future; a world where a woman did not have to turn her brain off to turn a man on; a world where a woman, like the cosmos, could have depth that excited the imagination; a world where a woman did not have to lose herself to find love; a world where someone might find Delphine Cormier exciting and useful apart from her reproductive capabilities.

In execution, however, she discovered that she may have been too optimistic; that this future might yet be farther off than she had suspected. So in the end, when forced to choose between her two selves, she had chosen to remain Delphine Cormier and to reject the life of Mrs. Phillip Bowles. She knew this choice resigned her to a either a platonic or salacious life, and though far from ideal, it was a life infinitely preferable to her than life as an accessory. She could find a way to weather the absence of certain corporeal _pleasures_, but there was no way she could pretend to enjoy being slowly suffocated by a mask she hadn't asked to wear.

As her body attempted to warm itself with a small shiver, she inhaled deeply, then slowly released the air from her lungs, feeling remarkably cleansed; less than 12 hours from her waypoint on this strange journey of life, she felt neither suffocated nor lonely. Indeed, the last time she remembered feeling any real melancholy was the morning she had boarded the train in Boston; the morning she had first noticed the light in Cosima's eyes, which even the sweltering heat of the train station could not subdue. She remembered how surprised she had been when their limbs had touched; previous to that moment she had been lost in her own mind, rereading a letter her grand'mére had sent her months before. Her grand'pére had been dead for about a year when the letter came, and her grand'mére remarked gleefully on the great freedom she felt as a widow to speak and do exactly as she pleased. Repeatedly, she affirmed her love for her late husband, but exalted her great fortune to have outlived him.

It was that letter that had revealed to Delphine her own heart; she knew instantly upon reading it that she did not wish to spend the rest of her life waiting for Phillip to die, and every mile that the train put between the two of them stretched any residual shreds of doubt she felt into ever thinner threads that eventually disintegrated, apparently without her even noticing. But then she had been fairly occupied the last few days with her new friend. In fact, it was Cosima who had brought her to this car the previous afternoon, guessing rightly that she would recognize the design as derivative of Buckminster Fuller's geodesic domes.

This unusual car might have simply been called a caboose were it not for the geometric glass panels that afforded riders an unimpeded view out the roof and around all sides of the train. They enjoyed the nighttime view together the previous evening. Cosima had called Delphine a "city girl" when she wondered at the uninterrupted darkness that stretched out for miles on either side of them. And though she wasn't certain that her new friend hadn't insulted her, she acquiesced, acknowledging that her experience with the "untamed wilderness" was, indeed, very limited, a reality Cosima assured her would be remedied by the end of summer. "That is, if you trust me to take care of you, little lady" she had added in that adorable John Wayne impersonation.

Delphine, in response, attempted her best Maureen O'Hara, "Alright mister, draw. I said draw!" There was a long beat of silence before Cosima began to chuckle.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she quirked.

Delphine, who had almost immediately begun laughing out loud at herself, apologized. "Désolé; it was the only line I could remember from _Comanche Territory._"

Cosima's chuckle morphed into a full on belly laugh, which the two women shared for a good thirty seconds before regaining their composure. As her breathing returned to normal amid some high pitched sighs and appreciative groans, Cosima followed up, "So was that a yes; you'll let me take you out?"

Delphine's bright expression turned almost instantly to confusion at Cosima's phrasing and the quick change in the blonde's countenance had forced her to rethink her words. "You'll go on a hike with me? Or a horseback ride… or whatever?" the brunette stammered.

Delphine, who was uncertain why Cosima's words had effected her so, but who also regretted immediately that her own reaction had made Cosima uncomfortable, answered quickly, and intentionally, attempting to put Cosima at ease. "Oui. It would be my pleasure to let you take me out, and, of course, I trust you."

Remembering the conversation, _will you let me take you out. _Delphine puzzled over this unusual woman who had simply walked into her life. Cosima, who seemed uninterested or unimpressed by the comforts a Phillip Bowles might offer her or any woman, whose conversation never strayed into the banality of domesticity, and who made her laugh with intelligent and well-timed jokes, reminded her of the sort of man she imagined meeting in her _egalitarian sometime. _She wondered if she should feel guilty for blushing at Cosima's friendly banter, if she was using her new friend to make herself feel better for abandoning a life of companionship for one of isolation. She wondered for a bit longer if she was not the only woman who hed felt this way about Cosima. Was it part of the role of a dude wrangler, even a female one, to offer women a certain kind of gallant flattery, playful and completely effective at reviving their self esteem? Or was it simply Cosima's way? In either case, she was not inclined to alter the course of her new friendship.

If another woman was willing to play at flirtation with her and could make her feel valuable and complete while doing so, this new life, in her growing estimation, might not be as lonesome as she feared. After all, men enjoyed bachelorhood surrounded by like-minded and affable companions; why could women not do the same. Perhaps she would host salon-evenings, peopled by the most exciting and diverse thinkers. They would sip bourbon or port and share half-formed theories about the nature of existence, quote great philosophers, or perhaps even become them. It might all be very romantic in its own right, and much more diverting than cooking an endless series of dinners for Phillip's boss and his uptight wife. Perhaps, if she had very good fortune, she might even take a lover who found her body desirable second only to her mind. But at that thought, she blushed and came back to awareness of her surroundings.

Her body had started to numb from being folded into her seat and under the sweater for the length of her silent reverie, so she allowed her legs to stretch out in front of her and her arms to reach up above her head, a muted pop along the column of her back and a satisfied groan displacing the previous silence of the night that folded around her. The absurdity of her situation became suddenly clear, as she remembered that she had a serviceable bed in her roomette and was choosing to chill her bones under the blanket of stars. She used the momentum of her stretch to pull herself upright, retrieve her shoes and slide through the few cars separating her from her private compartment.

As she nestled under the covers of her fold-out bed, sleep began to pull the curtain across her pre-fontal cortex; until a question, in the form of an image, emerged from her subconscious causing her to bolt upright out of her repose. Her tired mind had conjured Cosima next to her in the small but private bed, reaching for her, eyes dark and lips parted slightly.

Delphine's pulse raced; her hands flew to her face, which burned in shock and, what she was certain was, arousal. Her breathing was aggravated and her eyes welled with the many emotions she was feeling but had no idea what to do with. Suddenly craving daylight she threw the switch on her roomette wall; the fluttering fluorescents that flicked on making her feel more disoriented than relieved. Cosima sharing her bed, coming to her bed as a lover might… Was such a thing even possible? And if so, was it something she desired? Or had her mind formed an absurd collage of her own meandering thoughts over the course of the evening?

Willing her respiration to slow and her tears to retreat, she eased herself back down onto her pillow, but a tension clung to her body that stiffened every joint and made the muscles in her back and abdomen tremble as they attempted to release. She tried to remember Phillip's smell, the weight of him in the bed next to her, the texture of his hands against hips when she allowed him to come to her. But as soon as she could will these sensations into being, the ghost of a memory her own mind had created displaced them. She resisted this phantom and it's gentle insistence for as long as she could, but sheer exhaustion eventually won out and, as she fell finally into slumber, it was with the brush of a gossamer kiss at the corner of her lips.


	4. That'll Do

Delphine had always lamented her poor sense of direction. She was not one of those people who could easily ascertain, from the position of the sun or the fall of shadows, even the general direction of north. In her familiar, and in her travels, she always made due with landmark orienteering. Her places of residence defined the epicenters of her worlds; and her explorations away from and back towards those centers were how she learned to find her way; she noted buildings, signs and parks like trails of bread crumbs. To get to from Philip's parents house to the Schubert Theatre: _Travel along Chestnut toward the Esplanade, when you run out of road turn left on… Embankment (?) well, at any rate, turn left. When you run out of road again turn left toward Boston Common, then hard right, keeping the park on your left (keep turning left, yes) until you see the Colonial Theatre, then take the next right. In two and a half blocks the Shubert will be on the right._

She always felt vaguely inadequate when giving directions, as she couldn't answer simple questions if others did not know the same landmarks that she did; why were they so obsessed with street names and approximate distances? And as bad as she was at giving directions, taking them made her feel worse. She constantly interrupted, trying to impose her reference points over the top of other people's _turn-souths_ and _Berkshire Avenues. "That's the street with the Oak tree on the corner right?" _For a woman so intelligent, nothing made Delphine feel stupider than not knowing where she was.

She knew in the global sense, of course, that she had been traveling west since departing from Chicago, but as the train pulled into the Reno station and Cosima, who was sat across from her in the crowed passenger car, informed her, most helpfully, that the Riverside was just five blocks to the southwest, Delphine froze. She had no way of centering herself, no way of establishing in which direction she should turn to acknowledge her friend's kind advice. Her mind pitched and reeled. She forced an expression of recognition and gratitude onto her face that was instantly sabotaged by the flash of panic in her eyes.

Had the train come in on a true East-West line? The sun was almost at its apex for the day, so she could not even use her grammar school science knowledge to help her save face. Instead, she relied upon her default supposition that the direction she was facing _must be_ north. Glancing and gesturing back over her left shoulder then, she pretended to recognize something out the window of the passenger car while nodding her head appreciatively. She added a warm, "mmmmmm, Merci," hoping she had gotten close enough to southwest to avoid looking foolish.

The change in Cosima's expression, which had been half-distracted in the careful maneuvering of her own valise, was all the answer Delphine required. The shorter woman's mouth broke into its idiosyncratic grin as her hazel eyes, dancing with delight under twisted brows, found their way to Delphine's. Recognizing that she had been caught pretending, a shy smile replaced the false confidence that had couched itself on the blonde's face; eyes closed, she shook her golden locks and groaned quietly, bracing herself for the gentle teasing that had become habit between the two women.

Cosima, however, simply regarded Delphine with sly amusement for a few quiet moments before surprising her, pleasantly, by reaching across the space between them, slipping her fingers into the palm of the blonde's hand, squeezing gently, and responding with a mercifully sincere, "We'll get you settled."

"Merci." Delphine's quiet response ebbed with unspoken gratitude.

Cosima's eyes turned down as she responded, "It is absolutely my pleasure."

Aware that Delphine, even with her intelligence, charm and apparent strength, was about to take the first steps of a difficult journey that would change her forever, Cosima willed every bit of her compassion into the delicate strength of her grasp on Delphine's hand. "Hey, ça va?" she asked cautiously, not wanting to presume vulnerability or need where there was none, but wanting Delphine to know she was there none-the-less.

Delphine, suddenly overwhelmed by Cosima's unfaltering kindness, nodded affirmatively. She worried her lips, which had pursed reflexively in response to her quivering facial muscles, between her teeth, hoping to dam the flood emotion threatening to betray her. She drew a deep breath in through her nose, stretching her posture a few more elegant inches, tilted her head toward the ceiling of the train car and blinked back the moisture that had gathered in her eyes. Finally, she offered a steady "Oui. Ça va bien." back to the brunette. The confidence in her voice momentarily shored up by sheer force of will. Delphine felt weak; disappointed with her failure to control the maelstrom of emotions raging inside her, but she was glad, at least, that she was 2,000 miles from anyone who might feel triumphant in the face of her struggle.

"Good." Cosima smiled, choosing to ignore the conflict Delphine was so obviously trying to hide. "So, there are usually cabs out in front of the train station; they can get you to the Riverside and help you with your bags." Cosima shared, "or if you prefer, one of Siobhan's ranch hands is coming to pick me up. We can give you a lift, if that would be easier…" Cosima's expression was open and sincere; as her eyes searched Delphine's for an answer, she tilted her head slightly, her mouth not quite closed, as if she was preparing to offer a more persuasive argument.

As their eyes met, the look on Cosima's face felt familiar. Then, suddenly, it felt _too_ familiar, causing Delphine to turn her face away. She attempted to hide the color that raced back to her cheeks at the memory of another Cosima who had kissed her to sleep just hours earlier. She retrieved her hand from the other woman's grasp and brought it to her suddenly searing forehead; she felt gut punched.

Cosima instantly noticed and was taken aback by the change in her friend's demeanor. "Hey Delphine, are you okay? Did I say something wrong? Are you ill? Did you forget something?"

Delphine's pulse echoed in her ears; she could feel it in her neck and her chest, in her shoulders and her fingers; her entire body vibrated like a roll of the timpani. She felt alive. She felt wonderful. But she also felt exposed.

What might Cosima think if she caught Delphine flushing so, as she stared into her eyes? at her lips? Or then again, she thought, perhaps Cosima was used to it. Perhaps it was intentional; all part of the job. She shook her head and her hands as she made to speak; she didn't want to think that she was just another of Cosima's lonely girls. A borrowed something, to be handled gently for six weeks and then returned to sender.

She needed to clear her head. "Non, Cosima. Of course you did nothing wrong, and I am quite well; I just... I am well, thank you. And thank you for the offer of a ride, but I would not wish to trouble you anymore than I already have. You have been very kind to me, too kind I think."

"Impossible." Cosima firmly interjected. "There is no such thing as too much kindness, especially not at a time like this." Recognizing that she was again treading a vague emotional landscape, she added quickly "you know, when you're new to a place and you don't know your way around… and you're …." her voice trailed off in resignation. There was no good way to finish that sentence, not without potentially wounding the woman of whom she had begun to feel rather protective. Delphine, herself, however, surprised them both by continuing for Cosima, her conspiratorial impishness making an unexpected resurgence.

"…and you are about to forsake your marriage vows for a chance at actual happiness?" the blonde beauty arched her brow, as she turned bravely back toward Cosima, no longer afraid to regard any part of her face. In fact, she found she was eager to begin feeling alive as often as possible.

"Yeah," Cosima agreed, wincing apologetically. "Sorry."

Delphine, bolstered by the confidence of truth, continued. "Vraiment, Cosima, do not apologize. I am not ashamed of this decision. I have made my choice." She once again took Cosima's hand; she had stopped being surprised by how natural the gesture felt sometime the previous afternoon. "I am choosing to divorce Phillip Bowles, yes, but it is not just Phillip that I am leaving. The truth is Cosima, I am leaving my marriage because..." she stopped herself mid sentence, suddenly aware that her words were being closely attended not only by Cosima, but also by several nearby strangers as well. She lowered her voice back to a whisper, leaning closer. "Cosima, I am certain I am doing what is right for me; these other feelings of," her free hand twisted in the air as she searched for language, "sadness… regret… they are natural. I will have to go through them I suppose, but I will be fine, truly"

"Yes, definitely. You of any woman I have ever met, in or outside of this city, will most definitely be fine!" After coming perilously close watching her friend fall apart twice, Cosima was content to let Delphine dictate the emotional direction of the balance of their conversation, though she made mental note to inquire about the end of the sentence that Delphine thought better of finishing in the company of strangers.

They both sat back in their chairs and chatted briefly about Delphine's schedule the rest of the day (she had a lawyer's appointment at four o'clock), and about Cosima's stepmother's ranch, The Double S, on the western outskirts of the city, just south of the river. Cosima promised Delphine a tour once she was settled and felt up to adventuring.

The railcar doors slid open, sooner than either woman would have liked, and as the mass of passengers thinned itself out of the car, they rose and sauntered, side by side, toward their farewell. Cosima asked once more, "Are you sure we can't offer you a ride? I'm sure Donnie wouldn't mind." And simply because she couldn't help herself, she added, "Especially once he gets a look at you." Cosima noticed, with satisfaction, the blush rising through Delphine's fair skin as _that_ smile tugged at the corners of mouth. Cosima craved _that_ smile, the chaste, vulnerable one that she seemed so consistently capable of eliciting from Delphine.

If she wasn't careful, this woman was going to be her undoing.

"You are so cheeky" Delphine bumped the other woman's hip playfully with her own, passing her arm through Cosima's and pulling their bodies close together "and you flatter me."

Feeling suddenly flushed and a bit vulnerable herself at her increased proximity to the blonde, Cosima joked, "Hey, it's a dirty job, but somebody's go to do it!"

"Mmmm, c'est vrai," came the closely whispered reply, "and you, chérie, are so good at it."

The kiss that Delphine pressed to her cheek just before pulling away and descending the few steps to the platform below stopped Cosima dead in her tracks, disorienting her completely. She felt suddenly as though she had dropped something very valuable, but couldn't bring herself to remember or care what it might have been.


	5. Hey Porter

Cosima, feet welded to the spot and still reeling from the touch of Delphine's lips against her cheek, startled at the voice behind her, "Are you alright Miss?" She turned toward the voice and found a family. A man in a single-breasted tweed jacket held a small carry-all in each hand; the elbow of his left arm anchored a third suitcase to his torso; the woman standing at his right elbow held a rosy-cheeked toddler with disheveled, sandy blonde hair on one hip and the hand of a smartly dressed girl, about five Cosima observed, near her other. The oldest child, a boy, appeared to be twelve or thirteen, his features caught in the tug o'war between man and boy. He smiled at Cosima kindly as his father continued, "Can we help you with your bags? Jimmy, help this young lady with her bag."

The young man replied, 'I've got it Pop." as he reached toward Cosima.

"Oh, oh, no. No thank you." she replied, pulling her bag instinctively closer to her body, a gesture which seemed to bruise the feelings of the young man, and so, to encourage him not too abandon chivalry (which Cosima usually called sexist, but which Siobhan had always insisted was 'just good manners,') she added, "But thank you for the offer. It was very kind." She refused to break eye contact with the boy until his dejected visage broke into a smile.

"Not a problem, ma'am." he stepped back toward his mother, who was the next to speak, "Are you sure you don't need help, dear. You look a little lost."

"I'm certain I do." Cosima offered shaking her head at her own muddied thoughts. The blissful fog from which the man's voice had pulled her was dissipating, and she realized that she had no idea how long she had been standing there, struck dumb by the blow Delphine's lips had landed within inches of her own. The flesh of her arms, neck and cheeks tingled wildly. "And maybe I am a little, lost that is, but I'm sure I'll find my way," she reassured the woman. She gathered her wits and her belongings then and, reiterating her gratitude to the entire family, stepped down from the rail car into the bustle of activity below.

The midday sun shone directly into her eyes; holding her small valise just above her brow, she shielded them against the glare and scanned the crowd looking for Delphine. Donnie would be at the end of the platform, waiting for her. It was their routine to wait on the periphery of the chaos and catch-up, enjoying a lively, if brief, reunion while the crowd thinned. Then they would collect Cosima's baggage and head to the car.

Her eyes bounced through the crowd, her brain needing only a fraction of a second to ascertain the "Delphine-ness" of the individuals milling about the narrow strip of concrete that ran the length of the train, so it didn't take too long for her eyes to find and settle on the blonde's, now familiar, silhouette.

Moving at a quick step, Cosima hastily approached Delphine, who was standing a few yards from the train in the small sliver of shade provided by the depot building. She was waving down a young man in a pressed black uniform with a structured cap on his head, his hands and arms full of at least 8 bags already, balanced with a finesse that Cosima always admired. He acknowledged the taller woman with a nod and answered, "Stay there, Miss, and I will be right with you; if you could have your claim ticket ready."

"But of course." Delphine responded, opening her clutch bag and leafing through its contents to retrieve her baggage receipts.

"Hey Delphine, c'mon." Cosima goaded as she approached from behind. "If you won't accept a ride, which I think is silly, but completely your choice to make, at least let us get you and your bags to the cab stand."

"Non, Cosima, the porter can help me." she assured the brunette who stood now at her elbow.

"True, true," Cosima placated, "But you have to _tip_ the porter." She added, appealing to, what she hoped was, Delphine's practical side. "Donnie and I will do I for next to nothing'!"

This made the blonde balk. "_Next_ to nothing?" She repeated. "You mean you are going to charge me?! Mon dieu, Cosima; I am not giving you any money." The blonde laughed incredulously.

"Who said anything about money." Cosima teased, assuming again the persona of the charismatic buckaroo that Delphine had come to like almost as much as she liked Cosima herself. "Haven't you figured out yet that _I_ am _not _interested in _you_ for your money, darlin'." Cosima teased.

Happily and helplessly adopting her amatory role, Delphine turned her head as she inquired, "Then what _do _you want from me, chérie?" Her mischievous and seductive smile dared Cosima, who was certain an eyelash had been batted, to answer.

Determined not to falter first, Cosima responded with more chivalry than she felt. "Just the privilege of your company. Surely you can't deny a man a little," she paused long enough for innuendo to insert itself into the space between them, "polite conversation." She winked as she finished.

Amused and, effectively, scandalized, Delphine immediately began laughing; she dropped the coquettish façade and sighed, having reached the point, again, at which she was uncertain how to respond to this woman who made her feel… things, with whom she could not resist playing these flirtatious games, to whom she never minded losing.

Triumphantly, Cosima broke character last, nudging Delphine lightly with her elbow "C'mon, please" her voice, which had dropped pretense, sounded thin and almost imploring, "Please, I'd love to see the look on Donnie's face when he sees you!" Then, Cosima fixed her eyes steadily on the blonde's for a few lingering seconds before adding with disarming honesty, "I'm not ready to say goodbye yet."

That look. Those words. They were raw. They were naked. They were vulnerable, and they changed Delphine's mind almost instantly. Her swollen heart slid into her stomach as she realized she wasn't ready to say good bye either, that parting ways with Cosima, which was would happen soon enough, meant relegating all they had shared over the last few days to the past… to a time before now. To memory.

She wasn't ready yet to be a memory, to risk being forgotten.

The train had been an unanticipated haven. An anomaly. A world apart from the world. A pause. A long breath stretched between waking and dreaming. A refuge that they had built together and dwelled in according to their own rules.

Rules that allowed women to take up space, to have gravity and to know things. Rules that allowed women to stay up all night, star-gazing and to go to bed thinking of… pleasure. They were scientists; they were human beings, they were proud, celebrating their own accomplishments instead of living in the shadows of other people's. In the stronghold of Cosima's company, Delphine felt confident, secure in her decision to leave _society_ in order to be in the world.

She gave in to her desire. "D'accord, Cosima."

That toothy grin leapt into place as she asked shyly "Really?" and before Delphine could change her mind, Cosima turned and said, "Right this way."

It happened just as Cosima had predicted. The moment he laid eyes on Delphine, Donnie's entire demeanor changed. It's not that he wasn't affable, helpful or even eager to see Cosima as she strode toward him with her smallish suitcase crooked in the elbow of her right arm; it was just that he was, practically, a brother to her and, as such, had long since given up trying to impress her. But the blonde's effect on him was decidedly less sisterly.

Cosima recognized the look of breathless disbelief on his face as he caught his first glimpse of Delphine, who was walking beside her; in fact, she wondered if that was the look that had fixed itself to her own face the first time Delphine's beautiful eyes had caressed it, all those miles ago in Boston.

She envied him his instinctive response; Cosima always froze when women effected her like that, needing time to gain control of the stampeding sensations that flooded her central nervous system, but Donnie immediately drew himself up and tightened his abdominal muscles, making himself appear taller and leaner than he really was, readying himself to confront the torrent head on.

He did this for the blonde's sake, though he kept his attention on Cosima, striding toward her with a measured gait, a manly gait. With each step his smile grew wider and more genuine. When he reached her, he relieved Cosima of her travel bag, setting it down on the ground before reaching down and wrapping her in a warm and smothering embrace. He lifted her off of the ground, swinging her in a few dizzying circles as he spoke into her hair, "Welcome home, monkey! You are sure lookin' good. God I've missed you!"

Laughing and hugging him back as he set her down, she affirmed, "I've missed you too, Gordo!" He cut her a playful sneer at the nickname. Donnie, who could throw a hay bail fifteen feet, wrestle a charging steer to the ground by the horns and who had once carried an ailing calf two miles in a winter snowstorm, had the sort of physique that made him always appear a bit squishy at the edges, not like Paul, his bunkmate, who was all sharp angles and hard lines, chiseled out of marble.

Guillermo, the cook, teased the two men mercilessly. He complained that all white people looked alike, so he would call Donnie, gringo Gordo, and Paul, gringo Delgado. The nicknames had become quite popular with everyone on the ranch and stuck hard. In fact, Delgado and Gordo were more commonly used than either of the men's given names.

"How's Siobhan?" Cosima asked.

"Oh you know Siobhan," he said, "wild as the wind in a summer storm." Though he spoke to Cosima, he was performing for Delphine, who had stopped a few feet back from the pair, not wanting to intrude on their affectionate reunion.

Cosima grinned. "Are all of the guests checked in?"

Keeping his eyes on Delphine, he replied. "Everyone except yours, a Mrs. Smith."

"Smith? Really!?" Cosima quirked, at that Donnie looked back at her.

"If I'm lyin', I'm dyin' monkey; the woman's name is Smith!" Delphine didn't entirely understand what seemed to amuse them both so much.

"It's like a dime store novel, isn't it?" Cosima observed, appreciating the irony. "So, she's arriving….

"Friday." He cut her off. "Three days out. Everyone else is in and settled. Siobhan's gonna want you to attach yourself to that one."

"Yeah, she sort of mentioned that to me already" Cosima confirmed, and pitying look in her eyes, and a disingenuous smile pulling at the right corner of her mouth.

Delphine was beginning to feel awkward. Not only had she not been introduced to Cosima's attentive companion, but the conversation they were having about this Smith woman stirred an uncomfortable feeling in her chest. How might Cosima attach herself to this Mrs. Smith? Would she require all of Cosima's attention? Would Cosima give it to her? She knew these were childish worries, but she struggled to chase them from her mind. Donnie's voice pulled her back to the present tense.

"So monkey, you gonna introduce me to your friend, or am I gonna have to be crass and introduce myself?" Donnie asked.

"Absolutely. Gordo, this is Del..." She dodged a swat from his hand, which came at her quickly. "…phine Bowles."

"Cormier." Delphine cut her off. "I'll be going back to my family name. Cormier."

"Mmm, Cormier." She noticed right away that she preferred the feeling of the word Cormier in her mouth to that of the word Bowles. "Okay, Delphine Cormier," she smiled as the name slipped between her lips, "this is Donnie Hendrix. He's the stepbrother I told you about… well kind of. We were raised together on the ranch. Siobhan collects stray animals, and we both fit the bill when we were kids."

Donnie regarded his "sister" with a look that felt warmer than the midday sun, put his arm around her neck, and kissed her on the top of the head. "We sure did," he added.

Delphine was surprised to learn this about Cosima. Though her first impulse was to pity them both their unconventional childhoods, they seemed happier and more comfortable with each other than most biological siblings she had ever met, so instead she found herself envying their intimacy. It was very different than her relationship with Luc; she loved him certainly, but she wasn't as certain that she liked him very much, if at all.

"Enchantée." She extended her hand to Donnie, which he took and smiled as he answered, "Merci." His accent was, she observed, intentionally abysmal. "Enchanted right back atcha, Ms. Cormier."

As Donnie made to kiss Delphine's hand, Cosima plucked it from him and held it fast. "C'mon Romeo. We are going to help get Delphine to the cab stand. Save her the tip money to cover the cab fare to the Riverside." Cosima explained.

"You're at the Riverside? Wooooooooo. Swanky." He observed, and Delphine did not know why, but she felt compelled to explain, removing her hand form Cosima's.

"My expenses are being covered by my father-in-law." She explained. "On the understanding, of course, that I never show my face in Boston again." She added nonchalantly, but her gaze fell instantly to her feet.

"What?!" Cosima asked, flabbergasted. She reeled around to face Delphine head-on. "Delphine, that's crazy; he can't do that to you. Your family, your education, you life is there! Who the hell does he think he is?! I don't care how ri…"

Delphine quieted Cosima by stepping close to her and laying one hand on her arm, and placing the other against her cheek. She traced the woman's cheekbone with her thumb. "Cosima." She moved her head to follow Cosima's eye line, forcing her their gazes into alignment. "Ne t'inquiète pas**." **It was Donnie's turn to notice an intimacy that seemed exclusive, so he turned away to offer the women privacy. "Cosima, I agreed to the arrangement because I believe it is best. Phillip saves face, Phillip's family saves face, and I get what I asked for, quickly and without unnecessary dramatics." She ran both hands down Cosima's arms, grasping her hands in front of their hips. "I forbid you to feel sorry for me, chérie. I am getting _exactly _what I want. And," she added as it became clear that neither was going to look away, "if it makes you feel any better, I am touched that you would be so upset on my behalf. Now," she continued, "are you going to take me to the Riverside or not?" Delphine winked at Cosima.

'Yeah?" the brunette grinned.

"Oui, and thank you for the ride, chérie."

"Yeah, yes." Cosima released Delphine's hands, content with the promise of a few more minutes together and walked past Donnie. "C'mon Gordo. Let's get the bags." Cosima's gait had an extra bounce as they made their way toward the baggage car.

On the short ride to the hotel, Delphine eavesdropped on the conversation between Cosima and Donnie, who traded questions and answers about common acquaintances and life at Radcliffe. They continued to be comfortable and adorably affectionate in their banter, but the tone of their conversation changed appreciably when Cosima asked about a baby.

"When is the baby coming?" Cosima inquired eagerly.

"Next week, we think. But it's not an exact science." the cowboy replied, almost apologetically.

"I've been so worried about Lucy. Siobhan told me on the phone last month that it had been a hard pregnancy this time; tell me the truth Gordo, how bad is it?" She tried to remain stoic, but it was clear to Delphine that Cosima cared for this Lucy and feared for her well being.

"I won't lie to you monkey, it was really touch and go a couple of times, but she is doing fine now." Donnie grabbed her hand and squeezed reassuringly. "The doc says the pregnancy is… oh, what's the word he used… 'unremarkable' yeah, unremarkable at this point, is what the doc said. I think we'll cut her out tomorrow or the next day and keep her separated until it's over."

"Thank goodness," Cosima was visibly relieved. "Siobhan had me worried."

"Nah, nothing to worry over. Lucy and the baby are both going to be fine." He smiled at her as he parked the car outside of the angular brick building.

It's façade was impressive, elegant accents, but not gaudy as Delphine had expected from a hotel in a casino town, even a "swanky" one as Donnie had assessed it. The building was topped by white latticework framework with the letters attached that proudly declared the hotel's famous name: The Riverside Hotel.

Not wanting to pry, Delphine did not inquire about the obviously conversation she had just overheard. Instead she politely accepted Donnie's offer to transfer her bags from the back of the vehicle to the concierge desk, while she, reluctantly, took her leave of Cosima.

The two women stood awkwardly for a moment, facing each other, both, at turns, starting to speak, but backing down, or ceding the floor to the other, in an awkward dance of emotion, insecurity and etiquette.

Cosima finally spoke, though she, uncharacteristically, could not will her eyes to land upon Delphine's features for more than a millisecond before they sought refuge elsewhere. "So this is a nice hotel for sure, and there is a lot to do downtown, but you are more than welcome at the ranch anytime. Just give a shout. The front desk has the ranch house number. You remember the name right?" Cosima rambled.

"The Double S, non?" Delphine pretended to confirm, as if she could forget a single detail about this woman's life.

"Yep, that's exactly right! Impressive memory, Ms. Cormier." Delphine's surname slid across Cosima's lips like satin, triggering a familiar ache that was not diminished by the blonde's next move.

Delphine leaned in, offering a cautious, but firm, embrace that Cosima tried to mirror in strength and duration. Pulling back from one another, finally, Cosima was again paralyzed by the pressure of Delphine's lips, which had glanced across her right cheek and moved to her left, landing, again, just above the corner of her mouth. "Merci, Cosima, for all you have done for me. It really has been the most extraordinary surprise meeting you."

Cosima's veins throbbed under her skin; she felt certain she would faint if she didn't do something to break the tension immediately.

Always most comfortable with humor, she retorted instinctively, "Well, yeah, because I am incredible!" the forced bravado effectively masking the soul-crushing insecurity making Cosima's torso muscles quake.

Delphine laughed at this, shaking her head and adding, "Yes, chérie, you are. À bientôt." She waved with the tips of her fingers, turning her body toward the hotel, but keeping her gaze fixed on Cosima. "Bye," she whispered through the air between them, waiting until she was certain her words had hit home before finally looking away and walking into the Riverside.

Donnie, who was just walking out of the lobby as Delphine sauntered in, stared slack-jawed at Cosima. He gave her a playful shove as he passed. "C'mon Romeo! Let's go." he chuckled.

"Donald," she scolded lovingly, "Shut. Up."

"Monkey, you're not fooling me with that one." He bragged as he slid back into the driver's seat and closed his door with a _thud_. "Now, you tell me, what happened on that train young lady?!"

Cosima, who had just closed her own door, melted against it sighing, she turned toward her brother and spoke. "Just drive, Gordo. Drive, and I'll tell you all about it."


	6. Check In

**AN: **Many thanks to jaybear1701 for beta-ing! And to zephyrchild for the language consult. And finally, to satousei13 for the amazing cover art! I am seriously humbled by the support this community is giving this story!

**Check In**

Aldous Leekie's corner office was a study in mahogany, a masculine cliché. The reddish brown veneer covered every surface upon which Delphine's eyes landed, and she had to wonder, for a moment, if her own lawyer had recommended Leekie because they shared a passion for Kittenger colonial reproductions rather than out of any particular regard for his legal mind. Indeed the letter writing desk, the conference table, the wine stand (which, incidentally, appeared to hold only scotch), the corner basin, and a particularly ingenious, single-legged, corner table, all would have made fine additions to Felix Dawkins' already robust collection of faux antiques, which were in their own right becoming quite collectible.

Delphine was not impressed by the pieces outside of their connection to her British barrister; she preferred the curvilinear minimalism of modern designers. Herman Miller was her particular favorite, and Felix never missed the opportunity to tease her about her penchant for the practical at the expense of beauty. "Non, mon ami," she would retort, "there is far greater elegance in simplicity than in artifice."

"Not artifice, art." he would correct her.

"C'est le même." _Same thing. _She would suggest dismissively.

Quite unexpectedly, she and the young lawyer had become close friends over the last few months. Felix, of all people, seemed to understand better than most what she meant when she described the suffocating masquerade of married life. And he, unlike Phillip, treated her as an equal; he showed compassion for her without ever crossing the line into condescension. He never felt threatened by her intelligence and engaged gleefully in discourse with her on any topic she broached. Facts, she slowly came to understand, that were functions of his homosexuality.

Though he never specifically disclosed the information, he also never attempted to censor or edit his reactions when they were together. The appreciative adjectives and hungry gazes he cast at young men gave her more than enough information to permit understanding. She adored his confidence; she coveted it really, and when he gave her advice she listened, hoping it might help her locate a similar well-spring in her own heart.

"When you're on a sticky wicket, best to go off your own bat!" had been his parting words to her, as he placed the tickets, bank documents and his own private contact information in her hands. Of course, she had no idea what he meant, and her brow creased down the centerline as she wondered which facet of American or British popular culture had escaped her study. Thankfully, he elaborated, "Delphine, you've been long enough on the difficult side of life; time for you to do what you want, love! It's your time. So when life gives you the chance out there in the middle of nowhere, you grab it. Live a little; for both of us!" He winked, then kissed her as he took his leave, and she hoped, eagerly, that they would meet again sooner than later.

As she lowered herself into the hard wooden chair across from Aldous Leekie, separated by the wide expanse of his reddish brown desktop, she missed Felix's companionship tremendously.

Her new counselor had greeted her in the waiting room with a casualness that reminded her of how common place her problems must seem to the citizens of this odd little town. She, though striking enough to have drawn compliments already from the front desk clerk, the bellboy and Leekie's receptionist, surely appeared a very pedestrian sort of woman to everyone she had met, and would meet over the next six weeks, in Reno.

In Boston, her _friends_ whispered the word "divorce;" keeping a safe distance as if the word itself were a communicable disease. Sentiments of pity and shock chased her as she moved through rooms, crashing together in mid-air and materializing into rumor and innuendo. If there were three or more _ladies_ in a room, no one would make eye contact with her in case another might observe and imply later that she was sympathetic to _that Bowles woman_. It wasn't that divorce in Boston society was uncommon, but no one had _ever_ left a Bowles, and Delphine's rejection of Phillip shook the family, and consequently, the city to its foundation.

The Cormier-Bowles wedding was _the_ social event of the 1957. The Boston prince of pharmaceuticals vowed his undying love and devotion to the princess of Cormier Laboratories., who shyly accepted his ring. The result: the largest medicinal research and manufacturing conglomerate in U.S. history.

Delphine's father, Étienne, had spared no expense to offer the old-money Bowles family a wedding to remember. He had hired the entire Boston Symphony Orchestra, who began their program a full hour before guests began arriving at 4:00, and continued to impress throughout the entire evening and into the wee hours of the morning. No fewer than 2,000 deep red roses had been arranged in startlingly ornate bouquets of 50, displayed in Tiffany vases on each reception table and in standing urns up the side of each aisle way. Elaborate ice sculptures of cherubs and swans lined the edges of the outdoor garden venue; he had even commissioned a custom sculpture that perfectly captured the likeness of Phillip's great grandmother who had passed away two months prior to the engagement. Phillip's mother was particularly impressed, weeping at this addition, which Étienne had held back as a surprise. And naturally, as it was a party, obscene amounts of Dom Péringon flowed in fountains, into cups, and across the palates of 400 intentionally selected guests. Delphine, herself, imbibed quite a bit more than her mother would have liked. She held her tongue, though she struggled to control the admonition in her eyes.

Despite the besotted bride, their wedding had been planned and executed flawlessly; the only detail that had been neglected was her consent.

Of course, she had said "Yes" when Phillip offered her the ring; of course, she had said "Yes" when her father arranged their meeting all those months prior, when he announced his desire to introduce her to "this young man with tremendous prospects;" of course she had said "Yes," at the age of ten, when asked if she should like to wear her grandmere's wedding gown, which had also been worn by her mother.

Of course she said "Yes." She had learned, as all girls did, that getting married was the way a young woman got on in the world. She witnessed it… in generations of family photos and in the homes of all of her friends, in books and in the shops, in the movies and on the radio dramas. She had learned that women needed men to take them from girlhood to womanhood; they married to become who they were meant to be. She had learned it all, and learned it well before she was old enough to even wonder at its veracity.

That thought wouldn't occur to her until over a decade later while sitting under a hair dryer at the salon. Waiting for her broad, blonde curls to set, as the hum of the dryer and the creeping warmth of its diffuse, yet forced, air lulled her into a state of relaxation, bordering on the meditative, images of helical structures and letter strings: G-C, A-U, O-H-H-H-N-N, XX, XY, XXY, occupied her mind. She thought deeply about the puzzle of genetics, the questions of inheritance, recessive traits, mutation and development. She wondered which of her own characteristics might be fixed, attributable to the combination of her parents genetic matrices, and which might be flexible, a codification of her experience, learned but not innate.

It wasn't until the salon girl had lifted the hinge of the domed appliance that she became more specifically aware of many thoughts that had been absent from her reverie. Unlike the other women, whose domestic dialogues had interrupted her scientific musings, she had spent 30 minutes lost in her own mind and had entertained no thoughts at all of clothing, or cleansers, or children, or chores, or recipes, or romance, or Phillip. And when her girl asked about her husband's career and their eventual plans for children, she forced a smile and participated, "of course we want children," she lied, like an imposter in her own life story, "but not until I am finished with school." The actual Delphine didn't really care about being a mother or a wife, and she wasn't particularly good at hiding it. But for Phillip's sake and for her parents', she tried, even believing that one day she might (might), have a change of heart.

It was little wonder that when Leekie introduced himself and invited her into his spacious office to discuss the "details of this divorce business" she had assumed he meant it euphemistically, but what she found rather quickly was that it did seem to be, for him, not a matter of solemnity or pity, but rather of exchanging fee for service. The older man, tall and slight like herself, was balding; his eyes, despite being slightly sunken, were kind.

"Welcome to Reno Mrs. Bowles." he began.

"Cormier," she corrected.

"Ah yes, Cormier; if you prefer." His deference was genuine.

"I do." she affirmed.

"I trust you are settled at the…." he scanned through his notes, "Riverside, is it?"

"Oui." she replied.

"Very good. I want to mention some rules before we go over the process."

"I believe my lawyer covered everything. I can do almost anything I want as long as I don't leave the state, correct?" she summarized.

"More or less, yes, barring criminal activity, of course." he said, not quite ironically. "But you should know; the California border is a lot closer than you think it is, and if anyone can testify that you were not in six weeks of continuous residence, we'll have to start your time and petition from scratch." he warned.

"I understand." Delphine assured him. "And I have no wish to delay my departure; I am due in Berkeley at the end of the summer."

"I see. Not heading back East then?" Leekie probed.

"Non." There was a lull in the conversation, but Delphine offered no further details despite Leekie's inquiry.

"So let's get down to brass tacks." He refocused on the purpose of their meeting. "Everything we are going to do is pretty standard. I'll write the petition for you based on our interview today. The day before your graduation, you will come back here to the office and sign all of the necessary statements. The next day we will go in front of the judge. You and a witness, who must be a resident of Nevada, will testify that you have resided here for a full and continuous six weeks; the judge will verify your statements from the petition, and, as long as you don't change your mind, you will be a free woman. Six weeks from today." He made it sound so simple, like paying the tax bill or changing the milk order. She wondered how many divorces he was working on at the moment, but decided it best not to inquire.

"Do you have any questions Ms. Cormier?"

"Non, let's proceed."

"I really only need two pieces of information from you: Grounds and witness." he explained.

When she hesitated he continued. "Nevada law allows for divorce in nine different circumstances; you let me know when I get close." As he began to list the actionable grounds, he watched her expression for a hint of recognition. It was a game he had played before, she was certain. "Impotency. Adultery. Desertion. Conviction of a felony. Habitual drunkenness. Neglect to provide the common necessities of life. Insanity. Living apart for three years. And last but not least, extreme cruelty entirely mental in nature." He had made it through the list; Delphine had not flinched.

She listened more out of curiosity than anything; she hadn't known she would have options and wanted to consider them all. Of course she was amused by impotence, but did not wish to offend Phillip and delay his signing; she also wondered if respect and equanimity were "common necessities of life." In the end, she deferred to Leekie's judgment. "Whatever you think is best."

"Mental cruelty it is then. It's a generic term we use when things just don't seem to work out." he assured her with a wink.

"Je comprends." she replied.

"Now for the witness," he continued, "since you are at the Riverside, the front desk manager is usually subpoenaed for that task; it'' standard operating procedure for of out-of-towners. He'll be your witness, unless of course you have another friend or relation here in town, but I assu-"

"Cosima." she blurted, cutting him off. "Cosima, at the Double S. Cosima, uhhh," she stammered. "Mon Dieu, why can't I remember her last name. It must be the fatigue of travel." Delphine rolled her eyes at herself, trying to cover the fact that she did not actually know Cosima's last name. She hoped she wasn't being presumptuous, but she knew she wanted Cosima to be her witness.

"Cosima Niehaus?" he filled in the blank for her. "Siobhan's girl?" He raised his eyebrows, knowingly. What he thought he knew was not plain to Delphine.

Gambling on the fact that there was only one Siobhan with a girl named Cosima in the whole of Reno, she exploded with faux recognition and gratitude, "Niehaus, oui; that is it! Merci, Mr. Leekie."

"Aldous," he insisted.

"Merci, Aldous." she humored him.

"Alright. It's a little unusual, but not illegal certainly. I've actually got all of her information already." He seemed intrigued at her choice. "If you don't mind me asking, why not stay at the Double S, if you already have a relationship with Cosima? Are you two," he paused longer than necessary, "school friends?"

"Non, we met on the train; I had already made arrangements at the Riverside. She was kind to me, and I'd rather have her stand with me than a stranger," Delphine explained. She couldn't exactly identify the look on the lawyer's face, but it might have been disappointment.

"Well, I can certainly understand that." he acquiesced as he stood. "Good luck to you, Ms. Cormier. If you have any questions or need anything while you stay with us, don't hesitate to call. And remember to bring Ms. Niehaus back here with you in August. She'll have some papers to sign as well." He extended his hand, which she shook as she rose.

"Merci," she said again, "I will remember." She turned and left, anxious to eat and finish unpacking.

The room was much grander than she had anticipated. It was a suite of rooms actually; one entered into a large long sitting room with windows along the far and the shorter right walls, thanks to its situation at the back corner of the top floor. Also to the right, hugging the hallway-side wall was a kitchenette, with a sink, a small refrigerator and a two burner stove over an electric range. Cabinets held and assortment of cookware, dinnerware, and even a toaster and a coffeemaker. The left wall had three doors: the far one led to a large bedroom with a lovely view and a private bath; the second to a smaller water closet; and the final to another, less spacious, bedroom. Delphine assumed it might be intended for children. The furniture was modern and serviceable. A brown couch and two light blue sitting chairs circled a low coffee table in the middle of the room. A four seat dinette was arranged near the small kitchen and a particularly comfortable looking chaise lounge sat angled between the corner windows, affording a great view of the river below.

She would have been impressed that John had taken such care for her comfort, except she knew it had likely been his secretary who arranged it. She would have to send Margaret a thank you card.

The Riverside, as suggested by its famous name, did indeed sit directly on the river's edge, and Delphine could see and hear from her suite windows the currents eddying around large rocks and tree roots that had grown out of the bankside and now hung into the waters of the Truckee. She enjoyed listening to the sounds of the water and of the people six stories below her. She decided, upon finishing her meal and returning the rolling room service cart to the hallway, that she had had enough of admiring so much beauty from afar the last week and was ready to get a closer look. She changed from her dress flats into a pair of canvas tennis shoes, grabbed a sweater and headed down to the street.

The city had crafted a lovely river-walkway the length of the downtown corridor, and Delphine decided she would follow it. As she traced the length of the river with her eyes, she noticed the sun setting in the direction of the waters origin. _So that's west_ she thought with satisfaction, meaning she must be facing north as she looked across the river. She was standing on the south bank, the same side of the river she understood, without even realizing she had been thinking about it, that touched the Double S. The side of the river that Cosima was on. Something in the water, just upstream, caught her attention; it was a leaf still attached to a small twig, being carried on by the current in a lazy sway. Her eyes followed it as it approached and then passed her; she considered walking east, following the leaf until she lost sight of it altogether, but knew instantly that she would be unsatisfied with that adventure.

She acknowledged to herself, with relative ease and only a little heat, that she had come down to the river for a single purpose. Because she knew it might lead her to Cosima. The urge to be able to locate the brunette, to know where they were settled relative to each other, seemed like the most important step in orienting herself to her new home. She turned left and began to walk, against the current and toward the setting sun, completely unaware that three miles ahead of her, Cosima was out riding, looking for her as well.


	7. Mucking Out

She sat tall, forward in the saddle. Hips rolled down into the seat, thighs turned slightly over and inward, feet perched in the stirrups. Her back was tall, spine straight and shoulders loose, with the reins hanging freely in her hands, which lay, relaxed, on either side of the saddle horn.

The posture was half instinct and half consciousness. Cosima never felt quite as aware of or capable in her own body as when it was connected to another living thing, symbiotically; two creatures moving, responding as one.

She missed riding during the academic term; partly because of the solitude, the time to reflect and think… and fantasize. But mostly because of Darwin. They had been friends since he was born, a giant puppy of a creature who had eyes for her from the beginning, as she did for him.

Though Darwin's parents, both registered Appaloosas had been snow-capped (white over the rump with dark mottling across their hind quarters), their foal was born white as the Sierra Nevadas in winter, with a spray of black spots across his body, legs, neck and face. Cosima had exclaimed upon his birth, "It looks like he was sired by a Dalmatian!" No one argued with her, and after several lively debates about genetics and the traditions of horse registry, Siobhan let Cosima name the new addition to the family.

"It's not about _luck_!" Cosima exclaimed, slapping her thighs in exasperation. "His coloring is a relic of the geographic history of the breed! The leopard pattern helped his progenitors survive the winter in the mountains of China; tribal artifacts put his ancestors there centuries ago."

"If it makes you happy, kitten." Siobhan had answered with such adoration in her voice that it could have been understood as condescension. "Of course," she added with mischievous intent, "It also might just be what happened when Lucky and Belle laid down together. A name is a name is name, love"

"Siobhan, I was there, and neither one of those animals was _laying down_ with anyone; I can tell you that for sure!" Cosima sassed.

"I find it hard to believe," Siobhan ignored Cosima's flip, if factual, retort and continued, "that you don't see the hand of fate in all of this, even a little bit. Have you considered, love, why Lucky and Belle? Would it have happened with any other sire? Or dame? Will it happen again? And," she teased, beaming adoration at Cosima, "how would Charles Darwin explain a snow white horse in the middle of a desert?"

"Science and fate are mutually exclusive, S!" Cosima proclaimed incredulously.

"Are they?" Siobhan asked, feigning innocence as a type of ignorance.

"Yes!" Cosima was adamant. "Because there is no such thing as fate! And _that _is why we're calling him Darwin!" She flung herself down at the kitchen table and set about completing the registry paperwork. "I don't care what other words are on this piece of paper!

The older brunette rose and stretched, shuffling over to her daughter, who was almost a silhouette, lit by the single bulb fixture hanging over the top of the round oaken table. She kissed her daughter on the top of the head before rinsing her coffee cup in the sink and heading through to bed. "I love you, kitten; see you in the morning."

"And we live in a high mountain desert." Cosima mumbled half-heartedly; it a parting shot that she did not expect to land.

"Whatever you say, kitten." Siobhan placated, and Cosima grinned and shook her head.

"I love you, too."

Siobhan Sadler, as a matter of course, never forced her own perceptions, ideals or opinions on her children, perhaps because she saw them each as a gift, entrusted to her by fate. Her responsibility, but never her property. She believed that her job was to bring them from the darkness into the sunlight, to provide them plenty of water and food, and opportunities to run, to read, to play, to work, to sweat and to sing. She trusted them each to find their own way. She also understood, however, that all folks occasionally stumble, so she tried to live a life, steadfast and compassionate, that they might emulate when they lost their way.

So it came as a bit of a shock to Cosima, when, having heard Donnie's detailed report of Cosima's "railway romance," (despite Cosima's dismissal and objection that it was "no such thing,") Siobhan immediately took a stand. "Don't you give up on this girl, kitten. You are both here for the next six weeks; you owe it to yourself to see what comes next."

"Okay, whoa!" Cosima responded defensively, sitting straight up to the edge of the couch that had been cradling her tired frame. "'What comes next?' You guys don't even know this woman. Seriously! And if we're being honest, I don't know her either! So, I can quit whatever I want to quit. It was a train ride; it's done. I'm home, and I have a job to do."

It was Donnie who spoke next, "I know what I saw, Monkey. If that woman looked at me like that, touched me like that, I'd have very little doubt about the rest." A single eyebrow leapt up in implication before he continued. "And, even if you're right and I'm reading her wrong, I can read _you_ like a book, and you haven't had_ that_ look on your face since…." his voice trailed off.

"Just don't, Donnie, please." Cosima warned, pointing a finger at him from across the coffee table.

Donnie shook his head and moved his hand to rub the back of his neck. He spoke with measured breathe and firm but kind words. "Okay, okay. But you listen to me Cos, I love you, and I'll be damned if I am going to hold my tongue while I watch you throw away the most gorge…"

"Donnie, sweetheart," Siobhan inserted as she moved closer to Cosima's side, "give your sister and I a minute. Would you please?" She rubbed her hand across Cosima's tense shoulders, working her way around to the far side and squeezing until she felt the young woman melt into her embrace.

Knowing that there was no dissuading their mother on the rare occasions that she decided to assert herself, he stood, "Yeah, sure. Paul's gonna need a hand with the stalls when he gets back any way." He headed through the kitchen and out the side door that led toward the barn.

"Hey," Cosima's shout caught Donnie by the collar as he cleared the threshold and pulled his head back through the doorway, "leave Darwin's. I want to come out and say 'hi' later. I'll muck out after I brush him down."

"Sure thing, Monkey; he'll be happy to see you. I can saddle him up if you want to take a ride."

"Thanks; that sounds great, Gordo." Cosima smiled at him,

Donnie disappeared again, his parting words muffled by the closing door, "Make sure you ask her about the science stuff, S!"

A bemused Cosima rolled her eyes; a laugh stopped short in her chest. She nuzzled her into Siobhan's neck and hugged her before settling back into the couch cushions, waiting for the first question. Mrs. S. focused on Cosima and spoke slowly.

"Is she smart?" Cosima nodded.

"As smart as you?" Cosima nodded.

"Is she kind?" Cosima nodded.

"As kind as you?" Cosima nodded.

"And you like her?" Cosima nodded.

"And she likes you?" Cosima hesitated, a montage of sideways glances, shy smiles, shared revelations, interlaced fingers, flashes of heat, awkward departures, and fictitious flirtations flashed through her mind. She shrugged her shoulders, looking down, hiding her face from the woman who was watching her, assessing her.

Siobhan probed further, "Does that mean 'I guess so,' or 'I'm not sure.'"

Cosima's entire person shifted in demeanor; usually open and effusive and confident, Siobhan watched her daughter wilt, tears springing to her eyes, threatening to spill over the bottom lids, a grimace of pain twisting her brow and lips. As Cosima fought to hold back the torrent of emotion, Siobhan moved to kneel down in front of her daughter, taking her hands and squeezing until Cosima, a solitary tear trailing down her cheek, turned to face her.

"Kitten," the woman spoke knowingly, "twenty four years ago the universe saw fit to bring you into being and, six years later, made sure you found your way home to me. Cosima, you have been blessed with a quick mind and a loving heart, and over the last eighteen years I have watched you put both to the best possible uses. I couldn't ask for a better child, and no one who knows you would ever question your intentions _or_ your character. So why do you?" Siobhan paused waiting to see if Cosima might respond, and when she didn't, sitting silent still, the older woman continued, "Do you really think that just because you were made a little differently that you don't deserve every bit as much of the love that you show others? You know you'll never get it playing games with people."

"I'm not playing games, S! I'm surviving." Cosima's tone was harsh. "I know what I deserve, and I also know what I'm doing."

"Oh, do you?" Siobhan's tone challenged her daughter.

"Yeah I do. I know it's not what you want for me, but it works." Cosima explained. "I get what I need, and no one gets hurt."

Uncharacteristically, Siobhan corrected, "I think what you mean, child, is, _they_ get what they need and _you_ don't get hurt." She rarely made it her habit to force truth onto other people, especially personal truths, and especially onto people she cared for, but her concern for Cosima was pushing her toward that end.

"What is that supposed to mean?" a subtle rage brewed under Cosima's words.

"Do you really want me to tell you, kitten? Because I can't unsay it once it's out." Siobhan warned. Cosima, caught between the fatigue of self-deception and the need for self-preservation, raised her eyebrows in a feeble dare. Siobhan readied herself with a calm, deep breath and then spoke. "What it means, my darling girl, is that you let women use you to make themselves feel better because it is _safer_ for _you_," and after a moment of silence that hung uncomfortably long between them, Cosima's eyes staring blankly ahead, but beginning to soften, Siobhan continued, "I know you still think about her."

At that Cosima stiffened, eyes fierce once again, "I told you; I don't want to talk about her."

"But Cosima, you have to. _She's_ the reason you do this to yourself. _She's_ the reason you won't believe that this woman, or any woman, might care for you, might actually be capable of loving you. And you refuse to even acknowledge it, let alone work through it, so you're stuck, child. Stuck feeling it all of the time, so mired down in fear that you are missing your chance a happiness." Siobhan's words were gentle now, holding Cosima's heart above the pain she knew they must have been causing.

It had been six years since Emily Callahan had walked away from Cosima's tearful embrace and pleading words to become Mrs. Peter McNamara. Six years since Cosima had held any one… kissed anyone… sent fumbling hands across the landscape of…. any one. Six years of dude wrangling, of bravado and affected flirtation, of false confidence and chivalry. Six years of recreating the illusion of affection, the excitement of romance, filling the well of her heart with sand that made it feel full, yet unbearably heavy at the same time.

They sat in silence a few minutes longer before Cosima, quite to Siobhan's surprise, spoke, "I thought she loved me, S. I was so sure." Her tears spilled now unimpeded. "How can I ever trust my own feelings again, knowing I was so wrong?" Her tone was almost pleading and Siobhan let her hand come up to stroke Cosima's cheek. "I know you don't approve of how I am with these women, but it's what I want. It's what I need. It makes me feel. And, God, it feels _so_ good to feel, to remember what hope felt like, what infatuation felt like…. "

"What love felt like?" Siobhan interjected.

"Yeah," Cosima whispered, she took the tissue Siobhan had retrieved from the table top box. "I'm scared S."

"I know, kitten, but what if you don't have to spend the rest of your life courting memories. You _are_ strong enough; I promise." She stroked her daughter's hair, and the younger woman dried her eyes. "And you don't have to fall in love; maybe just stop hiding from the possibility." The older woman's words were warm and encouraging; she took the spent tissue and offered a fresh one.

"I don't know if I can." Cosima confessed, a sniffle helping her regain some composure, "What if I don't remember how?"

"Well, you'll never know if you don't try, will you?" They smiled at one another.

"No I guess not," Cosima conceded.

"Besides, kitten, the heart is resilient; it wants to feel."

"Yeah?" Cosima asked, genuinely.

"Yes, love." Siobhan affirmed. "How do you think we became a family?" They enjoyed the warmth of each other's presence for a moment before Siobhan ventured a new topic of conversation. "So tell me more about the," she spoke the last word almost euphemistically, "science." and Cosima couldn't help but giggle at her mother's attempt at salaciousness.

"Where do you want me to start." she asked, knowing Siobhan would not be content until she had the whole story.

As she felt Darwin's gait break underneath her hips, she realized she'd been lost in thought, over whelmed by the generosity of her mother's spirit and exhilarated, if a little nervous, about the idea of being open to the possibility of _Delphine_. Her equine companion had stopped at a tree, recently fallen, across the trail. Cosima considered taking it as sign that she had done enough exploring for one night, and she contemplated turning her mount back toward home, but then, suddenly, she felt the urge to jump.

When she had confessed to Siobhan her initial failure to read Delphine's circumstances correctly, her mother had raised her brow in an obvious critique of the scientific method, which led to a rebuttal from the younger woman that involved an explanation of Occam's Razor and an interesting discussion about the significance of wedding rings. Cosima described Delphine's research, to the best of her recollection, and Siobhan, being the only female rancher in the valley, nodded in understanding as Cosima recounted Delphine's frustration with negotiating space in a man's world. After watching Cosima glow through her recounting of the last few days, Siobhan suggested that Delphine come to dinner sometime soon.

"If you're riding out any way, you may as well head to the Riverside." Siobhan suggested, feigning innocence through her guilty grin.

"What if she says, 'no'?" Cosima worried.

"Then she says, 'no.' But you will have tried. Nothing great was ever accomplished without at least a tiny leap of faith."

She tapped Darwin's side with her right heel and pulled the reins lightly in the same direction, leading the horse in a wide arc away from the tree and lining him back up about twenty feet up the trail; it was an easy leap, but he needed some room to gather his gait. Cosima lifted herself out of the saddle and gave him the signal, "Ha," she breathed, as she gave his midsection a nudge. In a few quick strides, horse and rider were both over the obstacle, Cosima's body simply reacting, as Darwin had vaulted them, lazily, through the air. As she settle back down into the saddle, she felt freer than she had in years. She was just about to urge Darwin into a trot, growing impatient with their slow progress toward the Riverside, when she heard a familiar accent caress the syllables of her name.

"That was very impressive, Cosima." Delphine stepped toward the trail from behind a large Aspen, "and also very impressive was…" she approached the stunned brunette, reaching out the stroke the length of her horse's nose, "who is this stunning creature?"

"Uh," Cosima's tongue took a moment to catch up with her mind; Delphine's presence caught her completely off guard. She had planned to gather her nerve over the entirety of the three mile ride, and they were barely half way through. "um, Delphine Cormier, may introduce you to Charlie Darwin's Luck of the Draw." And as she introduced them she quickly dismounted, sliding between Delphine and her massive companion in order to move the reins into the lead position.

Delphine immediately began laughing. 'Charlie Darwin's Luck…?" she faltered for the ending.

"Luck of the Draw." Cosima repeated, confidence resurging at having some sort of upper hand, even if it was, literally, only a nominal advantage.

"That is quite a name." Delphine observed, appreciatively.

"Well, since you guys aren't close friends, yet." Delphine's smile widened at the idea of _yet. _"and since I gave him your full name, I could hardly just call him, Darwin now, could I?" Cosima chided comically. The idea of employing the reciprocity of formal etiquette with a horse amused Delphine to no end, and she congratulated herself on the decision to seek out Cosima's company. She already felt more at home.

"C'est vrai," she agreed, forcing an ill-fitting veneer of propriety over the top of her obvious delight. "It is a pleasure to meet you," she spoke the name this time slowly, one careful word at a time, "Charlie. Darwin's. Luck. of the. Draw." She nodded confidently at the last, and Darwin acknowledged her with a muted whinny.

"What's that boy?" Cosima said, dipping her head toward his bit. "Oh, Okay. I'll tell her. He says you should call him Darwin; I guess he thinks your friends already." Cosima shrugged and flashed a toothy grin that melted Delphine's joints and plucked at her nerves, causing them to tingle. The blonde noticed how the setting sun set fire to the Cosima's silhouette, lining her features with a shimmering ribbon of light. And it took every ounce of control she could muster to stop herself from reaching out to touch it. Instead she tucked a lock of her own hair behind her left ear. "I have to say, Delphine. That was pretty fast; it usually takes him weeks to warm up to new folks."

"Well," Delphine offered, dismissively, but holding Cosima's gaze pointedly, "I guess I just have that effect on people."

Cosima nodded slowly, "I guess you do." She reached out and claimed Delphine's hand with her own. "So Delphine, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, chérie." Delphine, dragged her toe backwards through the dirt as she anticipated Cosima's words, wondering what this startling woman might ask of her, wondering if there was anything she would refuse her.

Cosima fought every urge to affect her words and demeanor, "Delphine Cormier, would it be alright with you if," she paused then started again, "I mean, would you mind if…" Delphine was surprised by Cosima's obvious nerves and wondered if she should brace herself for a blow, but instead squeezed Cosima's hand reassuringly. THe effect was immediate. "Delphine, can I walk you home?"

The question lacked irony, or chivalry, or playfulness, or pretense. It was honest. Cosima had asked to walk Delphine home, and Delphine without pretense answered, "Oui, Cosima, it would be my pleasure."

With reins in her left hand and Delphine's fingers laced in her right, Cosima led them back toward town, trying intentionally to notice the smell of the sagebrush and the riverbank, the sound of the frogs and the crunch of the trail beneath their feet, the warmth of Delphine on her shoulder and the slow crawl of darkness overhead.

She was determined to remember _this_ moment when she laid down in bed tonight, determined to begin forgetting her past to make room for a future.


	8. I Put My New Boots On

Delphine checked her appearance once more in the mirror; she helped her golden curls forward with a flick of her head, letting them hang loosely in front of her face catching just in front of the dark patches at the shoulder of the pearl buttoned cowboy shirt she had bought at Sears that day.

The store was a bit further off than she had wanted to wander, but the concierge assured her that for _authentic_ ranch wear, the department store would do much better than the tourist boutique on the strip. She considered donning the Stetson she had bought on impulse. Having already committed to two pair of dungarees, three shirts and some two-tone boots (black embossed leather, with a grey, winged cap across the toe), adding the stiff, light brown hat to her purchases seemed like both and after thought and a commitment at the same time.

She had packed and prepared for downtown living; and though the terrain along the river had not proven too injurious to Delphine's wardrobe, she certainly noticed a problem with her shoes. The earth here was in a near constant state of erosion. The nightly breezes, conjured as the heat of the summer sun, which had baked into the landscape by day, rose off the valley floor and swirled with the cool mountain air rolling down from the Lake Tahoe, displaced layers of fine, chalky dust that passed for top soil to reveal an uneven substrate of fist sized rocks, protruding at various depths from the compacted ground beneath. The thin soles of Delphine's canvas shoes had done little to mask or disperse the pressure that the rocks exerted upward onto her feet as she walked along the wild stretches of the river path. In fact, it was principally a capitulation to this unearthing that had caused her to pause in her westward wandering to listen to the river, babbling wisdom as it flowed past her. Under the Aspen tree, she allowed her thoughts to meander with the rippling tide; she permitted herself to feel, to remember, with a vortex of tension swirling through her abdomen and winding her spine into tighter and tighter compression, the heat of her recent fantasies.

She flushed with an intense and tingling heat. It had been only a heartbeat since she had first permitted herself to succumb to the press of imagined lips and the brush of phantom fingers against her skin, yet she found that in the hours since, despite her efforts to focus on anything else, one idea kept returning to her. _Cosima_. That fierce dream, the shocking emergence of desire, was her near constant companion, urging her muscles and sinews into vibrating chords of longing, plucked by the rapidly accelerating beat of her own heart.

It was a completely over whelming sensation and one she hadn't felt since… well, in actuality she wasn't sure she had ever felt it before, and though she could identify Cosima as the cause, she could not fathom a remedy that did not end with her complete unraveling.

She forced herself to inhale deeply, first in an attempt to still her body's subcutaneous cacophony, and then to clear her head. She needed to regain control of herself, but how? _ Run, _her mind commanded, _run_. She rose to her feet but stayed rooted to the spot, uncertain if she was supposed to be running toward something or away from it.

Her answer appeared from the west, silhouetted by the sun which had not quite yet begun to dip behind the ridgeline. As she shielded her eyes, trying to make out the lines that separated horse from rider, she knew, instinctively, that Cosima had come to find her. The tension constricting her core loosened as she watched from her secluded spot on the river bank. And as horse and rider made seemingly effortless flight over the fallen tree, she felt herself also ready to leap.

So she took Cosima's hand when it was offered and walked with her and her enormous equine companion toward the Riverside; they traded observations about the color of the sky, the sounds of crickets, the whispering of the wind, and the smell of the sage that danced on it, which Cosima swore Delphine would never truly appreciate not having grown up around it. "I swear to you," she had offered, "the smell of sagebrush, especially sagebrush after a summer rain… God, it just… well it feels like coming home." Delphine smiled at that, she felt the same way about the smell of the ocean mingling with fresh baked bread.

Cosima had tied Darwin to the hitching post behind the hotel and joined Delphine in her room for a cup of tea, before taking her leave. And Delphine was overjoyed that, before she left, Cosima had invited her to dinner at the Double S the next night. "Mrs. S. is really keen to meet you. She told me to tell you that she knows more about being a woman in a man's world that I do, so….."

Delphine couldn't help but giggle at that. "Thank you, Cosima. I would like that very much. C'est vrai, I am so curious about your family."

"Whoa, no pressure though, right?!" Cosima teased, as she opened the door and stepped into the hallway, "I'm not sure we are all that interesting."

"Oh, I think you are more interesting than you know." Delphine retorted, leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded across her chest and kind smile stretched across her face.

"I guess it's hard to see when you are living it." Cosima mused,

"I guess it must be." Delphine cooed.

"Ummmm, I guess, good night then," Cosima offered awkwardly as she sort of stretched her arms and stepped toward the blonde.

Delphine leaned forward, dropping her folded arms and wrapping them tentatively around Cosima's waist, who reciprocally held Delphine around the shoulders and neck; their height differential creating a joint posture that pulled Cosima up past her full height. She felt suspended in Delphine's arms. They both lingered in their embrace longer than social convention required, and when Delphine felt Cosima inhale deeply, nose nestled in her hair, she allowed herself the same luxury.

When they released each other, they simply stood for a moment letting the intimacy of the moment dissolve naturally rather than ripping it in half with hasty departures.

"Good night, Cosima." Delphine smiled.

"It was a very good night, Delphine," she affirmed as she turned to leave. Then she stopped abruptly and turned adding, "Oh, hey, Delphine. I don't suppose you brought any boots with you?"

Delphine glanced down at her canvas footwear and the blank look on her face was all the answer Cosima needed, so she added, "It's okay. Just wear the one's you have on."

So, against Cosima's assurances and informed by her own experience trail blazing the night before, Delphine was determined to dress for ranch life when she joined Cosima's family for dinner that evening.

The minute hand had seemed to crawl around the clock face over the last hour, stretching the minutes across eons and inspiring fits of anxious pacing from the blonde. So when the phone rang as she tried one last time to force her blonde mane into the perfect appearance of effortless beauty, her tender nerve endings jolted trying to urge her back into a more conventional perception of temporal reality, but the shock held her still for a moment as the mind body connection struggled to reestablish its connection. It wasn't until the fifth ring that Delphine offered a timid, "Allo, oui." into the mouthpiece of the receiver.

"Well, I guess I got the right room, unless there's another gorgeous French divorcee in the building." Cosima joked. "I'm in the lobby. Should I come up or…"

"Chouette, I will be right down." Delphine, who was grinning at the generous compliments of her friend, interjected.

"Solid," Cosima returned. Delphine could hear her smiling over the phone line. When the blonde emerged from the elevator, Cosima's expressions morphed from anticipation, to recognition, to shock. Her mouth and eyes both flung open in appreciation.

"Whoa." Cosima dropped the word in a dead pan before regaining some semblance of composure. Delphine made a striking figure when dressed in her street clothes; her height, lithe frame, and elegant features captured the attention of men and women in passing where ever she walked. Cosima had noticed the way their expressions would shift from casual regard to admiration (and sometimes longing). Their optic nerves sent impulses to their visual cortexes that then ricocheted to their brain stems; the most primal part of their brains compelling them to respond to beauty as an indicator of genetic perfection and, thereby, extraordinary desirability in mate selection. But when Cosima saw Delphine's form clad in the rugged attire of ranch hands and cowboys her mind practically imploded, almost unable to reconcile the duality of femininity and masculinity that was laid before her.

"Hi, you." Cosima practically purred.

Delphine, who had been excited to show Cosima that she had been thinking of her, was also slightly unsteady, uncertain of how the gesture would be received. "How do you like me?" she asked, as she turned in a lazy circle, showing off the entirety of her western wear.

"I like you just fine, darlin'." Cosima fell back into her bravado, but only for a moment. "What's not to like?" she added sincerely, "How do you like yourself?"

"It feels a bit like a costume, I'm afraid." Delphine acknowledged, "But I felt the same way the first time I put on a lab coat, so I am sure it is a temporary feeling." she dismissed her own awkwardness and then made two confessions, "I really like these buttons!" she said, fingering the silver rimmed pearlescent circles, "and the boots are a little stiff."

"You did not?!" Cosima's incredulous question was more of statement. She had been so distracted by the Levi's and shirt that she had completely failed to notice Delphine's pointy-toed footwear. "Delphine Cormier, you are now officially wasted on the Riverside. You are ready for the authentic Nevada experience!" she beamed at Delphine, still half in disbelief at the figure before her. "You look just perfect," her admiration was clear, "Well almost perfect," she added.

"Almost?" Delphine asked, wondering how she could possibly fall short in Cosima's estimation.

"The only thing you are missing is the Stetson." Cosima teased.

"It's in my room;" Delphine answered matter-of-factly, "I didn't know if it would be appropriate for dinner."

Cosima's delight exploded out of her, "Shut up, Delphine! You bought a hat? Shut up!" She practically jumped as she bounced enthusiastically in front of the blonde.

"Oui." Delphine giggled, uncertain what she had done to thrill Cosima so thoroughly, but grateful she had done whatever it was. 'Should I go get it?"

"No, no, no," Cosima assured her, still laughing appreciatively, a wide grin across her face, "I'm not sure I'm ready for that!" she held one hand over her heart. Delphine blushed at the comment, wondering if Cosima had meant to imply something beyond aesthetic appreciation. "C'mon. Let's go. I want you to have a chance to visit with Lucy before we eat."

"Lead the way." Delphine acquiesced, and Cosima led her to the car.

Delphine had never been on a ranch; her experiences with horses were slightly more upper crust. She was accustomed to estate stables, where the daily care for animals was the responsibility of stable hands, where horses appeared saddled and ready to ride, where horses disappeared after a hard work out to be cooled and groomed by the staff.

The gate that marked the entry to the Double S was unremarkable, two deep set wooden poles that reached to a height of about eight feet stood on either side of the dirt road, an iron arch spanned the gap; at its center was welded an iron symbol about a foot in height that resembled a heart with octopus legs; it took Delphine a moment to register it as a perfect block script "S" mirrored on itself. The ranch house as well as the barn, stables, corrals, round pen and tack shed were all set back about a quarter of a mile from the main road. Delphine could see evidence of frequent riding across the open expanse of land that lay to the left and right as the approached the house. Worn trails wove between the ample sagebrush, seas of green scrub and the occasional boulder; she wondered out loud, because she truly didn't know, about the nature of tumbleweeds.

Cosima brought the car to a stop. "Well, Miss, you are looking at a whole bunch of it."

"Vraiment? Show me." she requested, opening the car door and stepping out.

"Well, you see the sagebrush right?" Cosima asked, approaching from around the back-side of the Chevy.

Delphine recognized the short twisted wooden trunks and branches supporting sprays of grey green leaves; Cosima had explained that they would explode into vibrant sprays of yellow flowers by summer's end, and though Delphine lamented that she might not remain long enough to see them, she hadn't shared that information with Cosima. She wasn't sure why, but it had something to do with beginnings and endings and savoring moments while she could.

"Oui." Delphine replied.

"Well, you see the green growing all around it? That is _Salsola Pestifer_, or Russian Thistle. It is the most common tumbleweed we get around here. And, now I am no botanist, but I do know that you will find this next bit interesting since you deal with anomalies a reproductive sort." Cosima flashed her cheesiest grin as she wagged her eyebrows over the last words of her sentence.

"Mon dieu." Delphine laughed, "The thistles are reproductively anomalous?"

'Well, kind of. Tumbleweeds are a very misunderstood category of plants. Most people assume the plant dies, get torn out of the ground and blows away; this is not true." Cosima shared.

"It's not?" Delphine added, out of camaraderie more than inquiry.

"No!" Cosima added, amused by Delphine's playful participation. "The body of the plant intentionally detaches from the root system so that it can disperse it seeds as the wind blows it around. Each one of the these green monsters will turn into another hundred next spring. It's actually a pretty aggressive and annoying plant. Hey, that's probably why it's called_ Pestifer_!" Cosima exclaimed proudly.

Delphine laughed heartily. "Oui, vraiment, Cosima. But can you not control it?"

"Actually we intentionally harvest about 2/3 of this when it blossoms in July." Cosima offered. Delphine was fascinated, the crease in the center of her brow begging for elaboration. "If it is cut when in flower it can be hayed for winter. Siobhan likes to be as self-reliant as possible, so we leave enough to regrow the supply next spring. Well I shouldn't say we. She hires that job out to day laborers passing through."

"Hey you! Get up here! Stop hogging that sweet young thing for yourself!" a voice split the air and Cosima's smile split wide across her face, a heat gathering across its surface.

She turned toward the house and shouted back in the direction of the jibe, "In your dreams buddy." Turning to Delphine, she explained. "That's my other brother Paul; Donnie was pretty effusive in his praise of your beauty I'm afraid," Cosima apologized then stumbled, "Not that it isn't totally warranted… because it, like, totally is… For sure."

Delphine blushed now. "How about I agree to take it as a compliment and we leave it at that?"

"Good plan; and thank you." Cosima affirmed, "I promise they are actually way more evolved than they seem at first."

"I can't wait to get to know them better." Delphine comforted her, as she slipped back in to the car. "Shall we?"

"Definitely," Cosima nodded as she, too, retook her place in the driver's seat, released the brake and drove the rest of the way up to the ranch house. Delphine saw people gathering on the wrap-around porch. She recognized Donnie immediately from the slight bulk of his mid section, and she assumed that the other, thinner man next to him must be Paul. There was a woman clad in an outfit quite similar to her own, but it had clearly seen years of hard work. Thread bare knees and frayed hems accented the relaxed fit of her jeans; the sleeves of her red calico shirt were rolled up her forearms to just below her elbows, and her red boots, scuffed and dull, gave the illusion that the ensemble had been intentionally arranged. Her long brown hair hung over her left shoulder in a thick, braided rope. If Delphine had not previously understood that Cosima was not Siobhan Sadler's biological child, she'd have never suspected. They were so alike.

Cosima cut the engine and turned to Delphine, "sit tight for a second." Delphine nodded, trusting. Cosima exited the vehicle and jogged around to Delphine's door, opening it and offering her hand to the blonde, who accepted it naturally.

When they reached the stoop, Cosima made to introduce everyone. "Delphine Cormier, this is my family. Family, this is Delphine Cormier. "

It was Siobhan who made up for Cosima's cavalier effort. "I know you've met Donnie, Delphine." She offered her hand, "I'm Siobhan; Cosima's guardian." Delphine was surprised by Siobhan's choice of words.

"Mother. " Cosima interjected. "I mean it was never made official, but yeah… this is my mother."

"Thank you kitten." Siobahn said, as Delphine took the older woman's hand and answered.

"Enchantée."

"And this is my youngest boy, Paul." Siobhan motioned to the thin man, whose hat obscured what appeared to be some rather chiseled features.

"Howdy, Miss. Cormier. Nice to meetcha." He tipped his hat, but did not remove it. He turned to Donnie and whispered loudly and obviously for the benefit of the group, "You were not lyin' Gordo; she is a looker. Ooooweeee."

"Paul," Siobhan cautioned, "don't you make our guest or your sister uncomfortable!"

"It's okay, " Delphine dismissed, smiling appreciatively. "It seems all of your children have a gift for flattery, Mrs. Sadler." And then she turned pointedly to look at Cosima.

"Mama, always told us, 'You catch more flies with honey' ain't that right?" Donnie joked.

"That's right!" Paul agreed, and then sang, "Cosima's a walking talking piece of honey comb."

"Keep it up Delgadita!" Cosima emasculated Paul in as loving a way as she could think.

"That's enough Jimmie Rogers," Siobhan warned. "You and Donnie go freshen the cattle troughs on the east fence, and scrub them down; I noticed some slime around the edges yesterday. Dinner will be ready in half an hour."

"Yes ma'am," they answered in unison.

They stepped down from the porch and walked toward to the cattle fencing, and once they saw that their mother had gone inside they continued to sing, obnoxiously and pointedly. "And the Lord says now that I made a bird/ I'm gonna look all round for a little ol' word."

Delphine was beginning to feel like Cosima's family was making fun of her, but it didn't feel malicious. She dismissed the feeling, presuming that they must share many rituals and inside jokes. And she would come to understand them in time.

"That sounds about sweet like "turtledove"/And I guess I'm gonna call it 'love'." The lyrics came thundering at them in dischordant, but delighted whoops.

"Guys!" Cosima bellowed back, but she couldn't bring herself to be angry with them. She knew they were, in their own way, protecting her. By being open and accepting of whatever was happening, they were letting her know she wasn't going to deal with it alone. She did worry that Delphine might be very confused. "Ignore them. They like to impress people with their innuendos."

Delphine smiled, "So nothing at all like their sister?" she teased, smiling shyly. She wanted to grab Cosima's hand again, but wasn't sure the gesture would be welcome after the good-natured ridicule she had endured at the hands of her brothers.

"So, do you want to go meet Lucy?"

"She is your pregnant friend right? She did not come out with everyone else? I know you said her pregnancy had been difficult. Is she resting?" Delphine showed an abundance of concern for this stranger, as she remembered how anxious Cosima had been to know about her condition.

"She is resting, yes." Cosima shared. "Let's go visit her; c'mon." but instead of walking toward the house, Cosima made off in the direction of the barn. Delphine jogged to catch up, kicking some dust up around their ankles.

"Where are we going, chérie? Is there a guest house?" Delphine inquired.

"Yep, there is. But it's back on the east edge of the property. We are heading to the barn." And within 15 paces they stood in front of the classic red structure, the hayloft door at the top of the barn was open but the large side door was shut. Cosima grabbed the handle and heaved, rolling it to the side. Comprehension was dawning for the French woman as Cosima lead her to small rectangular pen at the far corner of the barn. It was occupied by an enormous Holstein cow; her distinctive black and white markings leaving Delphine in know doubt that this was a classic dairy cow.

"Delphine, this is Lucy. My heifer." Cosima beamed.

"She's yours?" Delphine's tone was surprised as she smiled at the creature standing calmly in the pen. Her midsection was enormous, making her appear incredibly thick. So much so in fact that Delphine wondered if she might be wider than she was tall. The massive creatures ears flicked but she simply stared at Delphine with her impossibly human eyes and her incredible feathery eye lashes. Delphine wanted to get closer. "May I?" she asked, gesturing to move closer.

"Yeah, of course. Just move slowly. She'll be extra cautious because she's so close to giving birth."

Delphine stepped into the pen. "Tell me about her."

"Well, she is sort of spoiled because when she was a calf she got separated from her mother and lost out on the open range. Mabel was fit to be tied; her mother. She just lowed and lowed. To this day it was the saddest sound I had ever heard, and it drove Donnie mad with worry. He can't stand to see or hear a creature in pain, s he went out looking for Lucy. When he found her, she was down and couldn't get back up. Her gut had twisted, which is super rare for a young calf, and Donnie tuned her one her back to try to rock it back into place, but it was no use."

"What happened?"

"Well, he didn't want to leave her, so he gave Lucky a slap on the haunches and sent him home. He knew Lucky would get some help, but before Lucky could get to us, a storm started to roll in, and Donnie just scooped her up, all 130 pounds of her, and started walking."

"Non, Cosima." Delphine jaw was slack. As she had been listening, Lucy allowed Delphine to stand on her left shoulder and wrap her arm up around the cow's neck; she scratched the ear that flicked intermittently. "He carried her home in a rain storm? It is almost unbelievable."

"Well, you can believe it. Both man and beast took pretty ill. Siobhan nursed Donnie back to health, and I," she stepped through the railing and approached the ladies in the middle of the pen, "took care of Lucy here. I guess you could say we bonded; we don't even have to cut her anymore. She'll just follow me wherever we need her to go."

Delphine's crease reappeared and she asked, "What does that mean, 'cut her'? It sounds cruel."

Cosima laughed, "I guess it does. But I promise its not. Cutting is when a rider uses a horse to contain and remove one cow from the herd. They don't like to leave the group, but Lucy took a shine to me and has sort of followed me around like a puppy ever since." Delphine nodded her head in recognition at that comment. It seemed she and Lucy had had very similar reactions to the brunette.

"Of course she did; she's an intelligent animal." Delphine flirted.

"I guess I just have that effect on people," Cosima boasted playfully.

"It would seem so," Delphine echoed back. But then a thought wormed its way into her brain. A thought she had been having for a couple of days. She found the conversation left room for exploration, so she asked, "Does that happen a lot? Lost creatures getting attached to you." She was not proud of her phrasing, as it wasn't particularly kind.

Cosima felt the strain in Delphine's question.

"I'm not sure I understand." She replied as neutrally as she could.

Delphine scrambled to find a context outside of her own insecurity in which she might frame her question. "Oh, I just mean, women going through traumatic transitions, through classic transference, see you as, je me sais pas, an object of affection, or…." she hesitated but then, against her better judgment, finished, "attraction."

The bottom fell out of Cosima's stomach. She could not believe that Delphine was being so forward, and in the middle of her dairy cow's birthing pen. "I'm sorry," she stammered, "this is a little too surreal for me. Can we either stop talking about this, or at least move out of this pen and go sit somewhere? Please?"

Delphine, who wasn't sure she didn't regret initiating the conversation, considered taking the out and dropping the question, but she realized that she desperately wanted to know the answer. So she grabbed Cosima's hand and led her away form the pen and toward some hay bails across the barn. 'Will this do?" She asked.

"Yeah, sure." Cosima responded, her chest shook with anxiety. Her throat constricted.  
>"What was it you wanted to know, again?" Cosima maintained the out for Delphine.<p>

"I want to know Cosima, if any of your dudes has ever wanted to take you as a lover?" Delphine had this disarming ability to be straight-forward. She had done it on the train the first night they spoke, when she had announced her itinerary and left the room. What most people would balk at, or embarrass themselves grasping for phrasing to express, Delphine simply said, with alarming courage and honesty.

"Well, um, my goodness Delphine: that is a question." Cosima fumbled, "it's ummm, wooo." She exhaled gibberish syllables and fidgeted; Delphine remained stone still.

"Cosima," Delphine commanded gently. "Talk to me; I am not here to hurt you. I care for you."

Cosima felt suddenly raw, and so exposed. She looked into Delphine's eyes and saw sincerity, clarity, and compassion. She wanted to answer, but words were failing her. Tears were welling up in her eyes; she was wilting.

Delphine witnessed the paralysis that gripped Cosima; she could see the quaking, tremors wracking her tense body; Cosima was vibrating with worry, and she felt sorry to have been the cause of pain. And she said so out loud.

Cosima's voice shook, as she answered, "It's not you, Delphine. You didn't do anything wrong; it's just….. I just…," Cosima struggled to complete any thought at all.

Delphine, witnessing the dramatic effects of the tug of war between Cosima's mind and heart, felt a tremendous urge to comfort the other woman, to make her feel safe, so she reached out her hand and moved an errant strand of hair behind Cosima's ear. Cosima looked at her, eyes pleading for release from something Delphine couldn't know, from an injury that Delphine hadn't caused. So Delphine did the only think she could think to do. She ran her hand gently through Cosima's hair to the back of her neck and then pulled her into a gentle kiss.


	9. Take Me to Church

When Delphine pulled Cosima's lips to her own, it was an act of pure emotion, an impulse. Having seen the fear behind the brunette's trembling eyes, her need to tip the scales, to lead by example, to show Cosima that she was safe, had led her to the rashest act of her adult life. Delphine, who had generally lived according to plans, allowed herself to tumble head long into spontaneity.

Not that impulsivity was _entirely_ new for the suddenly emboldened blonde, but it was a more recent addition to her behavioral repertoire. Since reading her Grand-mère's letter, she had gradually become less measured, less cautious, and more comfortable acting on instinct.

It was instinct, after all, that led Delphine, after he had made a particularly dismissive remark about her "pervy research," to throw her martini in Phillip's face and announced in front of their dinner guests that he could "go fuck himself." And it was instinct, when months beforehand, she dared to apply for a graduate fellowship at UC Berkeley. Instinct had also led her to Felix Dawkins for counsel and to Sears that very morning for the chance to wrap herself in an idea and flirt with possibility. To some degree, it felt like instinct that drove her, now, to claim Cosima's fear, and, with the gentle pressure of her mouth, dissolve it into dust.

In the natural world, instinct serves the ends of survival. It carries adaptive and evolutionary functionality; in choosing fight or flight and to feed her own soul, Delphine had instinctively prepared herself to thrive rather than simply to survive. After the martini, the acceptance letter, and the Stetson, Delphine had felt like she was moving toward something; taking intentional steps in the direction of happiness. In each case, she could visualize an outcome, or at least conjure a vague idea of what might come next.

In _this_ moment, however, seated on a hay bail in a pearl buttoned shirt with her fingers slid through chestnut silk and her entire life force gathered into a fine point where her lips met Cosima's, her consciousness threatened to shoot out the tip of her tongue if she could not…. _taste_. She was completely lost.

This act, this kiss, this claiming had been, rather than instinct, a compulsion. Compulsion, which defies reason and will, serves maladaptive ends and can lead one quickly down a satisfying, but certain, path to ruin. Addicts, abusers and philanderers, to weak to resist the draw of dopamine, actively seek the release of the brain's pleasure center, abandoning propriety for pleasure and discretion for destruction.

Delphine, having no recollection of choosing this kiss or what might happen when it ended, had allowed herself to slide down a rabbit hole and wondered if there was any path back to the surface.

"Delphine," Cosima breathed, the two restrained syllables barely audible as she pushed against the blonde's shoulders, breaking their connection. The fear in her eyes had dissipated; Delphine could see that immediately. It had released its hold, but in its place was something else, disbelief, and behind that, deeper still, curiosity: a question reflected out from the depths of Cosima's eyes, from fields of shimmering onyx that reminded Delphine of starlight and gossamer.

Struck, suddenly, by the implications of her actions, Delphine's eyes flung open wide and her hand flew from its tangle in Cosima's tresses to cover her mouth. "Cosima," she stammered, "I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I just…" she practically jumped to her feet, walking at a clip away from Cosima and back toward the birthing pen. She turned into the expanse between them, feeling much further away from Cosima than the few meters that actually separated them. "I've never, ummmm, before. I mean, I have, certainly, but just not… with a woman." Her hands anchored themselves in her blonde locks. "Merde." She growled toward the rafters, castigation and self-doubt imbuing her words, her demeanor, and, most unsettling to Cosima, her usually placid features.

Delphine tried to pace, but, in her agitation, all she managed was a series of sporadic stomps and changes in direction. How could she have been so weak? So thoughtless? Cosima had shown her every kindness, and she returned it by being forward, prurient and, now, lecherous. Shame burned her features. "I'm so sorry." she offered, realization dawning that she had likely impaired their friendship, "I should go. If it would not be an imposition, could I use your mother's phone to call a taxi?" She was resolved to re-gather her strength and not implicate Cosima in her longing.

Her mind reeled, trying to locate the exact moment or memory, the word or action that had allowed her to believe her advances would be welcomed. She scanned the stolen moments of heat; how she had allowed herself to feel in response to Cosima's banter and companionship, to their brief moments of physical contact, but she could find nothing sturdy enough upon which to hang her hope. It must surely be another phantom of her imagining.

She cast one final glance at Cosima, who had risen and begun to approach her, unable to fathom standing near the woman again with out wanting, Delphine began her retreat toward the large barn door. "Excuse me, Cosima."

Epinephrine. Norepinephrine. Cosima had felt them flood her already over stimulated brain when Delphine had pulled their lips together. She was caught between parasympathetic commands; the cadence of each heartbeat echoing the conflict: _fight-flight; fight-flight; fight-flight; fight-flight; fight-flight. _Gripped by indecision, Cosima succumbed to paralysis; she froze, neither inviting nor rebuffing the blonde's advance. Her hyperactive limbic system was slamming her pre-frontal cortex against the front of her skull, and jumping up and down on her pericardium, squeezing her heart at erratic intervals.

She wanted this; she knew she did; she had decided just the night before to allow Delphine to happen to her. But she was happening so fast. Too fast. Cosima had yet to out run the memories of her past or shed the burdens of regret. She hadn't had enough time to consider contentment, a life not haunted by remembering, a life where she might kiss Delphine absent the spectre of _Emily, _whose image hung behind her lidded eyes even as Delphine…

Delphine, who had been so earnest and brave in her declarations and questions, deserved earnestness and bravery in return. She deserved more than awkward and distracted embraces. She deserved veracity of feeling.

Cosima knew that emotions were inherently chemical; press the right cerebral lever to trigger a lymbic response. She, herself, had become quite adept at expediting those processes in women over the years, rushes of blood and endorphins summoning "love," but her long game was weak, practically non-existent. She had spent so long manufacturing attraction, that she had lost a feel for sincerity.

Spurred to urgency by the idea of the blonde walking away from her, Cosima's dumbstruck heart managed to forge an assurance. For the first time since the word "lover" had fallen from Delphine's lips, Cosima thoughts found voice; she reached out, laying a gentle hand on the blonde's tense shoulder. "Hey, Delphine, it's okay," she whispered. The words (or was it the whisper?) caught Delphine by the heart strings and forced her to look in Cosima's direction her eyes now completely sincere, if lacking slightly in depth. A request followed her first utterance, "I'd like you to stay." Cosima grabbed Delphine's hands so they were standing face to face. "We need to talk. Please. Stay." Delphine felt exposed; she wasn't sure she was ready, or would even know how to answer the million questions Cosima must have about her. "I think you are entitled to know what this is really about."

"OK," Delphine was taken aback, and secretly relieved, to have the attention removed from her own forward behavior and the intensely confusing thoughts and feelings that seemed to be driving her to recklessness.

"Would you mind if we walk together?" Cosima asked, she knew her nerves would require a physical outlet and it was still 15 minutes before dinner would be ready. "We can follow the drive back down to the main road. If that's alright."

"Oui." The blonde agreed.

"Thanks. I'm a little nervous and I just, well… yeah. Let's walk." She motioned for the blonde set the pace. Delphine ambled away, releasing her own hands from Cosima's and joining them behind her back. The shorter woman took a quick double step to fall into stride beside her.

"So," Cosima said, "I want to tell you something, and I am really hoping that it doesn't upset you, or change your mind about being here."

The bottom of Delphine's stomach fell out; she braced herself for rejection, crossing her arms in front of her chest, guarding her heart as they walked on. Acutely aware that she had stretched the limits of Cosima's interest in her, she wanted to cry. But in an effort to keep Cosima engaged with her, she painted a half grin onto her face and tried to brighten her eyes by opening them a little wider, "I'm listening." Her _enthusiasm_ pushed the limits of credibility.

"Have you ever heard of the _marone noho_?" Cosima asked, her tone indicating that she was expecting a "no." Her heels kicking through the road dust just enough to betray her apprehension

"Non," Delphine offered, curiosity obvious from the question in her word.

"Yeah, I didn't think you would have. Ummm," she grappled for another approach, "How about two spirit people?" Cosima tried again.

'I'm sorry Cosima; I am not familiar with that term either." Delphine apologized, the vertical line creasing her brow. She had thought they were talking about a kiss. Did Cosima really wish to discuss the soul? She rocked a pivoted a bit in time with her gait, "Is it to do with religion?"

Cosima clarified, her hands making oaths in front of her body, "It's not a non-sequitur, I promise; it's totally relevant." Delphine softened at Cosima's cryptic, yet sincere, assurance. "You asked me a question back there, and I want to answer, but I don't want to be a condescending asshole either."

"Merci," Delphine answered with playful appreciation, though she was suddenly nervous about the topic of conversation. "I would not like you as an asshole, I think." She shook her head at her own weakness; had she really fallen back into flirting so easily? Cosima needed her to be present in this moment, not wandering off into fantasies to stoke her own fires.

Cosima stopped in her tracks and turned to Delphine.

"Are we done walking, chérie?" Delphine inquired. Rather than answer her directly, Cosima took a few strides over toward a large rock and sat upon it, motioning for Delphine, who willingly obliged, to join her.

Cosima leaned forward, elbows on her knees and fingers tented and spread apart. She took a deep breath, and Delphine could not help reaching out to rub her back. The gesture made Cosima chuckle, not a little bit ironically, and the blonde began to recognize that perhaps her friend was in more distress than even she had been ten minutes previously. "Cosima, you can talk to me." They were right back to where they had been before the kiss. It was almost comforting to have reset the clock as it were.

"Delphine, you asked me… to be honest, I have wanted to… to trust you, and I... there have been women who…. shit" Cosima stuttered over every thought, making valiant runs at the truth but balking as she approached it. "I'm so sorry. God, I promise I am trying." She cradled her head in her hands.

Delphine removed her hand from Cosima's back and used it to raise her chin, "Maybe I can help. Can I try?" Cosima nodded. Delphine looked into Cosima's eyes, gentleness pouring out of her own. "Cosima, are you trying to talk to me about your lovers?"

"God, how do you do that?" Delphine's words had ripped a crevasse through Cosima's being, making her feel unbearably light; she was surprised her two halves were not drifting up and away from the rock they shared. 'How do you….? Yes. Yes, I want to talk to you about… that."

"About your lovers." Delphine repeated, gently. "You can say the word, Cosima."

"Can I?" Cosima's heart hammered against her ribs. "I'm not sure at all right now."

"Of course," Delphine stroked her cheek. "Just take a breath and say it. We can say it together, if you would prefer." Cosima nodded and inhaled deeply through her nose, her chest expanded stitching her two halves back together.

Delphine also inhaled, 'Ready?" she asked. Cosima closed her eyes and surprised the blonde when she spoke without assistance.

She spoke the words in a fluid line, "Delphine, I want to talk to you about my lovers." A massive wave of nausea had pushed the words out, but subsided when the ground failed to split open and suck her out of existence, when Delphine had the audacity to remain by her side, and when the plague of locust failed to descend from the heavens. Delphine smiled at her.

"I'm listening, Cosima" she spoke Cosima's name with an affection that was palpable.

"You asked me if any of the women I work with had ever taken me to bed, and the answer to that question is _no. _" Cosima spoke to the earth, too anxious to even try to connect with Delphine, who could feel the nerves radiating off of the brunette. The blonde was dumb struck. She had not suspected that this amazing, intelligent, charming girl, could ever be so vulnerable, might be so delicate. She suddenly felt very protective of Cosima.

"I'm listening," Delphine assured her again.

"Delphine, I am _marone noho; _I have two spirits." Cosima felt the silence as an invitation to continue. "Delphine, I'm not like most women; I'm not like you. I want things that most women don't."

"And what am I like, Cosima? Tell me." the blonde entreated, sincerely. "I would like to know what you see when you look at me."

"What I see. God, Delphine, you're amazing. You are _everything_. You're just … brave; you came here, to Reno, alone, to start a new life… which is just so, daring. And by the way, what went wrong with your husband? And look at you! I mean my God, you are so gorgeous." Delphine blushed; she was torn between wanting to slow Cosima down, and listening to details of the her admiration. She wondered if she might ever get another chance to hear those words, so she let Cosima speak uninterrupted. "And you are so open, you bought those clothes, that shirt with pearl buttons you can't stop touching, but you are also… Delphine, you're normal." These words were not what Delphine wanted to hear. "You have a husband; you wanted a husband. I never have. I have always wanted… something else." Cosima still could not look directly at Delphine, but she did caution a sideways glance and recognized acceptance emanating from hazel eyes.

"And what is that, chérie? What have you wanted?" Delphine pushed a little, even through her own discomfort. She insisted on the truth.

Cosima, having begun unburdening herself, could not seem to stop talking, "Love." she stated matter-of-factly. "Love, Delphine. I have always wanted love. " And as she claimed it, claimed love for her own, her confidence grew. Her posture straightened, and she smiled. "Love. I have always wanted love and I have always believed I could not have it." Cosima, practically jubilant at the odd confession, leapt up from the spot; Delphine followed close behind.

Cosima's emotion was contagious, Delphine's heart swelled with sympathetic joy, and her eyes brimmed with tears. "So how, chérie, how are you so very different from me?" Delphine pressed.

Cosima's volume had risen as her fear had diminished; she stood up and paced, a manic energy propelling her, "Because I don't want a husband Delphine; I want, I have always wanted," she turned to look at Delphine, noticing her newly damp cheeks and practically sighed her admission, "a wife….. God that felt good! Hot damn. I want a wife! Delphine," She grabbed the blonde's upper arms and spoke directly to Delphine's heart, "I want a wife. I want love and I want to get it from my wife." Cosima, elated, released Delphine, but her mind was caught in such a melee of endorphins and neuro-transmitters that she began to list to the left; she brought her hand up to her forehead, "Oh god, this is intense. I need to sit back down."

Delphine, amused and uncertain, guided Cosima back to a seated position. They sat together taking some deep breaths and leaning forward head in hands, before trying to continue.

"So Cosima, it would seem we are not very different after all." Delphine did not elaborate. She was so overwhelmed by her regard and overwhelming concern for Cosima that her own impulses seemed a tertiary concern. "We both need love. The fact that you desire it from women is not unnatural, if Kinsey, and even Freud, are to be believed. It is simply uncommon."

"Anomalous." Cosima ventured chuckling, remembering how their first encounter had hinged on a misinterpretation of incongruent data.

"Oui. And you know how I feel about anomalies." Delphine clearly remembered too, if her smile and open flirtation was any indication.

Cosima's body language and expression suddenly changed. "But, see, that's it Delphine; you can't do that. That's what they all do. That's what _she_ did. I know it's not fair of me to put this on you, because I know I did it, or do it, or whatever, but you can't flirt with me, not like that. I know I started it. I always do, but the thing is… I want so badly for you to mean it, and I know that you aren't like me. Not really, and I let someone, once, be that to me and she wasn't like me either, and she left me. And I'm not strong enough to do that again."

Delphine had listened intently, Cosima, so guarded a few moments before had let the floodgates open and a torrent of hidden truths and fears poured out. She understood that Cosima wanted her; she understood that Cosima would not believe that Delphine wanted her in return. Delphine understood that she wanted to be wanted by Cosima, but were Cosima's fears legitimate? Was Delphine just passing through a life that Cosima lived in every day? She could not find a truthful answer in her person. She knew Cosima excited her mind, and, she had come to the shocked realization, her body as well. But was it novelty? Was it taboo? Was it love? If it was not, could it be? She knew it would be easy to become addicted to the way Cosima made her feel when she was trying, but how might Cosima make her feel when she wasn't.

Until she was certain of the answer, she had to respect Cosima's request. She refused to be the source of pain to one she cared for so deeply.

"Alright, Cosima. If that is what you want." Delphine reluctantly agreed.

"Ha,' Cosima practically shouted, "what I want is…" she thought better of finishing the thought, and instead looked at her watch. "you know what I want?" Cosima was stalling.

Delphine didn't let on that she knew. "Tell me."

Cosima locked away her errant emotions and frivolous romantic imaginings; she spoke with all of the sincerity of a child who has agreed that her punishment is fair. "I want you" Delphine wished she would have stopped there; she longed for that to be the end of the sentence, even if she was resolved not to act on the knowledge, "in my life for the next six weeks; I want to be your friend and have some fun and talk about basal ganglia and chromosomes and go to the movies or a concert or what ever occurs to us. That is what I want Delphine. Can we do that?" Cosima asked, strength of will masking the larger truth, the truth that Cosima had already locked away and that Delphine desperately hoped to set free.

The truth that everything Cosima had just said was a lie.


	10. Concordia Discors

Siobhan Sadler's old rectangular dinner table was supported at the corners by plain, functional, hand-turned legs. The three wide planks of oak that formed the tabletop had been dove tailed together expertly and the dark patina on the wood had all but hidden the joints. It was a sturdy table, a modest table and made no pretense about being other than what it was; a few shallow rings at the center and bottom of each leg felt less decorative and more like an abandoned capitulation to _style_. Delphine smiled as she looked around the family house, which was attached to, but largely separate from, the guesthouse, noticing that all of the furnishing evidenced a similar confident humility.

She was unsure why but she had expected hyperbole in the décor; cowhide chairs, longhorns mounted above doorways, a wagon wheel coffee table at least, but a simple low profile couch sat on one long side of a coffee table, which was a set piece with the one in the dining area. Two chairs sat akimbo to the ends of the coffee table; their upholstered seats matching the couch; their backs and arms formed by unembellished spindle wood. A cylindrical vase of clear galss sat in the center of the table; wildflowers drew the outdoors in. The end table held a pot-bellied lamp whose flat beige shade diffused its soft warm light.

The walls were covered in framed snap shots. In some of them Delphine could recognize her hostess or the three siblings through the ages, but there were other characters, who seemed to belong, but whom she had not met. A tall man wearing an apron appeared in two of the pictures, and upon studying, Delphine noticed that he was apron-less in three others. She also noticed a picture of Cosima's mother, bundled up against a chill, leaning against the corral fence and kissing a tall man with dark features; her hands pulled him to her by the lapels of his barn jacket. The image felt like love and inspired in the blonde melancholy and hope simultaneously. She enjoyed looking at the photos, especially the ones of Cosima. Her favorite, and the one in front of which she had paused to ruminate, showed Cosima atop Darwin, the horse's posture contorted in a way Delphine had never seen; his front feet were spread out far to the sides as it seemed a cow was about to barrel into his chest. Cosima, tall and calm in the saddle, looked down; her body implied that it was about the break to the right.

'That's my favorite, too." the voice coming over her left shoulder made her start slightly. IT was Siobhan come to visit with her as Cosima and her brothers finished setting the table. "You can see what she's thinking."

"She's going to move right." Delphine stated immediately, as though it was the obvious answer to a question that hadn't been asked. Siobhan's eye lit at the comment.

"Mmmmmmm." The older woman nodded appreciatively. "You should see them in person; Cosima and that horse…." her voice trailed off, savoring a memory for which words could do no justice, things she wasn't saying revealing the deep affection Mrs. S felt for her daughter, "Quite a sight, the two of them."

"I would like to see that, very much." Delphine stated, simply. Sincerely.

"I'm sure that can be arranged." The older woman whispered, nudging Delphine's shoulder with her own. Delphine smiled broadly at the casual gesture; the tiniest of laughs rolled through her chest.

Remembering Cosima's reserve, Delphine added, "If Cosima wishes to share with me." Delphine's smile tightened then; Siobhan noticed.

"You care for my daughter." It was a statement, not a question.

"I do," Delphine's answer came without hesitation. She wondered if they were talking about the same sort of care, the kind Delphine could never have intended but felt nonetheless.

"It's written all over your face, kitten," Mrs. S put an arm around Delphine's shoulder and gave her a squeeze, "and I'm happy for you both."

Delphine wanted to protest, but she could not manufacture an objection in the face of such sincerity, even if Cosima might have wanted her too. Nothing in Siobhan Sadler's home brooked pretense.

"You two done havin' your kumbaya over there?" Cosima interrupted, "Dinner's on the table!" Both women smiled in the direction of the table and broke from their postures toward the table.

Dinner was a whirlwind of stories, laughter and questions. Delphine, through relentless inquiry, discovered that Siobhan had bought the Double S thirty years earlier, from the bank. The previous owner had lost everything in a rather protracted descent into gambling addiction, so she took what she had saved working double shifts as a maid at the Riverside and moonlighting as a dealer at Harrah's and sunk it into a dream of self sufficiency. She had learned fast about ranching, getting a break neck education from the hands, who were grateful not only to have employment, but also to find that their new boss had no aversion to hard work and never asked more of them than she was willing to do herself.

Paul and Donnie had grown up idolizing the ranch hands and had never considered leaving. Cosima loved the ranch, the animals, and was obviously deeply connected to her family, and they supported her desire to study neurobiology. Cosima had ambitions of being the first female professor at the University of Nevada when she finished graduate school, hoping that pursuing her dreams would not preclude her from settling close to home.

"They'd be idiots not to create an entire department just for you, sis!" Paul said, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks P." she almost blushed under his affectionate gaze. Delphine was enamored with this family. Not a blood relation at the table, though technically Paul was distantly related to Siobhan and had come to her as an infant after his parents were killed in a car accident, and yet there was more genuine sense of belonging here than she had ever felt in her biological family.

The pause in Delphine's inquiries opened the door for Siobhan. "Tell us about you, Delphine. Please, we'd love to know you better."

Cosima interjected, "S, it's none of our business. You don't have to say anything you don't want to Delphine." Cosima assured her.

"Merci, Cosima," Delphine was grateful for the thought, but dismissed it. "It's OK. What would you like to know?"

It was Donnie who spoke, "Anything you feel comfortable telling us. What do you do for fun? What do you study? What brought you to Reno?" he added ironically

The table chuckled, and Delphine engaged in a spirit of levity. "Well, I think we all know what brought me to Reno…" she offered in a faux whisper, pausing intentionally, "a train." And though she cherished the laughter her wit had inspired, she followed up with a more sincere confession, "Non, obviously I am here to get a divorce; when we were engaged my husband celebrated my studies; he even seemed interested occasionally in my work with genetic disorders and syndromes. I was surprised to find as the wedding drew closer that it seemed he did not expect me to continue in lieu of becoming his wife."

Cosima nodded her head. "Like with a capital W…"

"Exactly!" Delphine affirmed; she intentionally locked eyes on Cosima.

"What do you mean a capital W?" Paul inquired.

"It's a poem, by Emily Dickinson," Delphine elaborated, not breaking her gaze across the table.

"A great poem. It's about understanding your potential and not being allowed to realize it." Cosima elaborated. Delphine's eyes closed for a moment, savoring Cosima's succinct interpretation.

"That sounds depressing," Paul interjected.

"Or empowering." Cosima countered, talking to Paul, but connecting with Delphine.

"It's so nice to meet someone who gets it." The blonde added, almost forgetting that they were not alone, but remembering in time to elaborate for the benefit of the others, "The hardest part was that no one seemed to think his assumptions were unusual. My girlfriends were so envious that I was marrying at all, let alone into such an affluent and influential family. My mother assured me I would not feel the loss of my own dreams once I became a mother, and my father simply kissed my forehead and called me princess. Which is what Phillip called me also, ironically."

"You must have felt very alone," Siobhan offered gently.

"It is interesting you should say so." Delphine countered, "but, in actuality, I felt quite crowded, like there was no room for me, the real me, the whole me, in my own life. With my friends I felt like a fraud, pretending to me enamored by my future as much as they were. Around my father and Phillip in my life I felt like an object, a quaint thing, waiting to become what they wanted me to be. Around my mother I felt like a disappointment; I did not want for myself what she wanted for me. It was maddening, truly, feeling the weight of everyone else's expectations… eventually something just broke inside, and I realized with absolute certainty that I would rather be alone than caught in the middle of everyone else's ideas of who I should be. I needed to listen to one voice, my own voice. So here I am."

For a long moment no one spoke. Concerned she had imposed on their polite compassion, Delphine apologized, "Je suis desolée. That was perhaps more than you wanted to hear from me."

"How courageous you are, my dear." Siobhan affirmed, "and not just for leaving your marriage, but for your honesty with us, as well."

"Well, it is very easy to be honest where there is kindness." Delphine observed.

"Can I just say, I'm pretty damn impressed, Delphine." Donnie added. "Most folks who roll in here have just about no clue how they ended up here. It seems life just sort of happened to them, and they spend six weeks trying to understand what went wrong. I tip my hat to you darlin'. " His observation made her blush.

"Merci, Gordo," Delphine grinned, hoping her use of the familial nickname would help restore the sense of ease at the table and not be seen as presumptuous.

"You know," he added, "I have never liked that nickname, but I could get used to hearing it from your lips Delphine!" he winked playfully.

Cosima had yet to speak in light of Delphine's revelations; in fact a quiet sort of shock had settled over her brain. She had meant to know these things about Delphine sooner, to have asked these questions before she had invented their answers, before deciding that Delphine couldn't understand her.

Hearing her brother's flirtatious comment brought her back to the table and the conversation. She couldn't resist the urge to knock Donnie down a peg, since he had been so bold as to flirt with her woman.

"Don't pay him any attention, Delphine." she looked mischievously at her brother, "He's just excited because you're the first woman who has ever said his name besides me and S!"

"Ooooooooooohweeee." Paul howled, enthusiastically supporting his sister's harassment of their brother.

Cosima laughed out loud, clapping her hands. She ducked her head quickly to the left as a dinner rolls whizzed by her ear!

"That's it monkey! You are gonna pay!" Donnie jumped up from the table, his chair legs screeching across the polished wood floor; Cosima's chair flew back, tipping over as she made to flee out the side door with Donnie hot on her heels. Paul blazed through the door behind them to watch the chase.

Siobhan and Delphine remained seated at the table, laughing at the hijinks of the siblings; Delphine in slack-jawed, wide-eyed amusement. "Sometimes I wonder when they will stop acting like children," Siobhan exhaled, bemused, "but more often than not, I thank God they are just as they are."

"They are charming " Delphine countered; her laughter subsided and her face settled into a wistful smile. Siobhan wondered at the sadness she saw in Delphine's expression, but before she could ask about it, the sounds of the chase outside shifted in Donnie's favor. Cosima's tone became pleading; she demanded to be put down. Upon hearing the change, Delphine's attention flew to the door and she rocketed toward the exit to observe, but before she got there the sound of a large volume of water being displaced silenced Cosima's cries, which were quickly replaced by peals of raucous laughter in three distinct voices.

Siobhan who had seen this drama play out numerous times before had left the room briefly only to return with a towel. She laughed at her daughter who appeared at the side door in hysterics, water dripping from her drenched hair and clothes, having been deposited in the horses water trough in retribution for her affront to Donnie's intimate prowess. Delphine, completely smitten with the wet cat of a girl in front of her and overwhelmed by the desire to wrap Cosima in a tender embrace, took the towel from Siobhan and wrapped it around Cosima shoulders, rubbing her upper arms to warm her.

When she slid her hand between her legs that night, Delphine's mind was dizzy with questions and focused on answers. Scenes from her evening with Cosima's family swirled through her mind. Siobhan was happy for them; Cosima wanted her; she had kissed a woman; no, she had kissed Cosima. Cosima was a woman; she was attracted to Cosima. Logically, that meant she was attracted to women, yet the syllogism fell apart in the testing.

She could not reconcile the two thoughts in her mind. She could not generalize the feeling Cosima inspired in her to thoughts of other women. If her attempt to sway the direction of her current imaginings was any indication, she could not generalize those feelings to men either. The feelings it seemed, for now, were wholly unique to Cosima. So she gave herself over to the sensations in an attempt to understand it, to understand herself, to find the answers she and Cosima both seemed to need.

She started by remembering her lips pressed to Cosima's… no… it had started sooner than that… it had happened so many times: with each affected "darlin';" with the promises of Pleasure Domes; with the weaving together of fingers; with the lingering of embraces; with the flight of horses; with countless stolen glances; and with radiance of the setting of the sun. It had happened so many times already, and it had only been a matter of days, hours really since she had first felt it at all.

She pinpointed the moment just prior to kissing Cosima as the moment when she felt the most delicious draw of longing. The memory of the ache triggered it again: the wonderful, all-encompassing need she felt to taste Cosima's lips, to make Cosima hers. Behind veiled eyes she was again sliding the silk of Cosima's hair between her fingers, feeling the moisture leave her mouth, and pulling Cosima to her.

The pressure attempting to explode through the walls of her chest, that radiated in a painful arc across the median of her cranium, that throbbed above each of her ears, that pressed against the back of her eyes, she recognized as arousal, desire, connected deeply to the mammalian brain, the part of the brain, Delphine noted, ironically, responsible for the drive to reproduce.

She supposed that the sweet stretch of her sunken stomach and the familiar ache of arousal she felt when she kissed Cosima would bring the physiological responses associated with typical sexual function. Having conjured a connection to those strong psychosexual impulses, she was prepared to find evidence of her body preparing for intercourse. What she found, however, as her fingers approached her sex was a sensitivity she had never experienced; a radiant heat and intense wetness that shocked her, making her gasp at the lightest brush of her fingers across oh-so-swollen flesh.

At this finding, her neo-cortex buzzed. Electric currents zipped though her neurons, which sizzled in reaction, a physiological echo of learning, of her brain rewiring itself to make room for the wanting of Cosima. She yearned to push the limits of this learning, to increase the connections and associations between her existing synapses and her new desire, to increase the number and strength of those bridges that she might easily access them should she be allowed to cross them again. She wanted to test the limits of this learning.

Delphine explored, without urgency and in full bloom, allowing her body and mind to uncover what truths they could find together, her hips, her fingers, and her mouth helping her mind to form new synaptic connections; reordering and redefining possibility.


	11. After Midnight

By the time she turned her Chevy back up the dirt drive to the Double S, Cosima had already decided she was an idiot and did not feel any inclination to be reminded of that fact by anyone else, no matter how loving their intentions. So when she walked through the front door and found all three of her nearest and dearest waiting for her in the living room with a fresh pot of coffee and quizzically raised eyebrows, she decided she would entertain their questions, but planned to answer as vaguely as possible so as not to elicit out right protestation from her brothers, who were perched in the spindle backed arm chairs, or their mother, who was settled into the far arm of the couch.

"Soooo, how was your driiiiive?" The way Paul dragged out the vowel sounds and the suggestive shake of his head elicited an ironic chuckle from Cosima.

"It was fiiiiiiine." she answered, not quite willing to offer more unless one of them was cheeky enough to ask, which to her chagrin Donnie absolutely was.

"Did you kiss her?!" he asked too eagerly. And even though she wanted to state clearly that it was none of his business, Cosima's blush came so quickly it was practically an answer in and of itself, so she felt compelled to respond more directly.

"No, I didn't." she stated, flatly and with some affected veracity. It wasn't a lie exactly, but it wasn't honest either. In an attempt to keep her composure, she took the cup and saucer offered by Siobhan and sat down next to her mother and sipped the strong black liquid. The biting heat of the coffee against her tongue helped her forget the flush of her skin and the anxious vibration in her joints.

Sensing his sister's measured response as a ruse, Paul attacked semantically, "Did _she_ kiss _you_?"

"Seriously?!" she asked incredulously, almost sloshing coffee into her lap as she crossed her legs, "I am not answering that!" She pinned her gaze to the wall across the room, the heat returning to her face.

"And you shouldn't, kitten; not if you don't want to," Siobhan affirmed, putting a gentle arm around her daughters shoulder. "but she did, didn't she?" her mother added knowlingly. Cosima flung her head toward her mother, wide-eyed and shocked.

"S!" she interjected, "Really?!" That was all the answer the boys needed.

"Wooooooooooooo! Way to go sis!" Paul's enthusiastic whoop overlapped with Donnie's "yeeeeehaw! Cosima!" as Siobhan laughed out loud and planted a protracted and self-indulgent peck on her daughter's cheek, punctuating it with the subtlest of promises, "Really, kitten."

Paul and Donnie had sprung to their feet, their reactions spilling out in characteristic slapstick banter.

"I'm surprised you came home so soon."

"I'd still be there; I would. I'd be whispering-"

"Cosima, would you like to come see the view from my room?"

"It's tray mannifeek!"

"Are you trying to sound French?"

"Wee."

"Don't do that."

"Well, I'd still be there."

"Speaking in…"

"Tongues!" they ended in unison.

Donnie and Paul grabbed each other in a melodramatic embrace, groping hands rumpling their clothes and hair, and knocking each other's hats to the ground. Cosima, eyes rolled to the ceiling; she murmured to herself, "This is my nightmare!" but the smile on her face belied her words, revealing a contentment and security that she had denied herself for too long.

Once her brothers had recovered their hats and their modesty; she begged the lot of them to not let on to Delphine that they knew anything about a kiss, and they agreed. More accurately, Siobhan agreed; Donnie and Paul conditionally accepted, with the caveat that they be allowed to nod in mysterious approval whenever they saw the two women together.

"Fine!" Cosima said, "But no words you two! Not _one_ word!" she qualified, knowing they would find a loophole if she left it.

Paul crossed his heart and showed the three-fingered scout's honor salute. "Not one word."

Donnie zipped his lips and tossed away an invisible key, "Not one word."

As they headed off toward their rooms for the night, Cosima shouted one final condition, "and no sound effects either!" She couldn't be certain, but she thought she heard Paul whisper a disappointed _damn_.

Siobhan sat with her for a few more quiet minutes before asking the question she had been holding back. "What happened in the barn?"

Cosima practically spit out her coffee. "What?" her eyebrows knit themselves together, feigning confusion, "Why would you think…, I mean…," Cosima resigned herself to revelation, "How did you know?"

"Let's just say, I've been watching people for a good long while, kitten, and the two young women who walked into that barn are not the same two I saw walk out." Cosima hadn't considered the fact that Siobhan had seen their entire interaction from the kitchen windows; "You went in with a spring in your step and came out with lead in your heels. The both of you!"

"Yeah, I guess we did." Cosima admitted.

"Can you tell me about it, or would that be intruding?" Siobhan asked

"Ummmmmm, you are absolutely not intruding! No, no way. But would you mind if maybe I didn't for now?" Cosima asked sheepishly; she wasn't sure how to right the course with Delphine, but she knew she wanted to, and didn't need to ruffle her mother's feathers needlessly.

"Of course, kitten." came her kind reply.

"I just… I think I want to think about it on my own for a little bit." Cosima clarified.

Siobhan stood and laid a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder, leaning down to kiss her temple as they parted for the night. "When ever you are ready, my love." She added as she was about to leave, "Don't forget that the Smith woman is arriving tomorrow, so she'll need some tending to in the evening."

"But Donnie said she was coming on Friday." Cosima offered, not entirely certain she wouldn't welcome the distraction of her new ward's arrival.

"No; she arrives tomorrow," Siobhan corrected, not annoyed but clearly certain of her own schedule. "And Cosima, be gentle."

"Of course," Cosima affirmed, compassion lacing her simple words

"With her, and yourself." She smiled warmly at her daughter.

Siobhan squeezed Cosima's shoulder before making to remove her hand, but Cosima wrapped her own finger around it and brought it to her cheek before turning to kiss it; she did not sever their connection until she added with deep sincerity, "Thank you… for everything, S. I really don't know what I would do with out you."

"I love you, Cosima."

As Cosima lay in bed, the near steady whisper of zephyrs rustling aspen leaves lulled her into contemplative repose; she replayed the events of the last few hours in her mind and considered both her conceit and her fear

Despite a healthy appreciation for her own intelligence, aptitude and charm, Cosima had never thought of her self as arrogant, but she was certainly beginning to see that trait reflected in her interactions with Delphine. How many assumptions had she made over the course of the last few days? Assumptions the blonde refuted with her actions, time and again. Cosima realized that from the earliest moments of their meeting she had cast Delphine as character in her own sad, little drama.

Initially she willed Delphine to play the flattered paramour, easily manipulated with a clever turn of phrase or false humility, but, instead, Delphine had shown herself to be an intelligent, brave and compassionate woman who would not be manipulated. Rather she met Cosima earnestly, intrepidly, in the midst of their flirtation, never seeming to think that Cosima's intentions were other than what she presented them to be.

In fact, it had been Cosima who trembled when Delphine dared to ask for confirmation and clarity; Cosima who panicked when Delphine recognized her struggle and searched for truth with her lips; it had been Cosima whose terror had wrested them apart, her fear of feeling, of falling, of failing obscuring her truth and Delphine's. Her fear compelled her to recast the blonde as desperate, confused, clumsily seeking refuge from loneliness. She had asked Delphine not to flirt with her, she had asked her to be compassionate, not to display more than she felt, and Delphine had agreed.

But at dinner, Delphine had spoken her truth; she had rejected life as Wife. She had said she'd rather be alone than trapped in a torrent of expectations. Delphine wasn't desperate. She wasn't keening to fall in love, and certainly not with a woman. She wasn't neglected or broken like so many of the women Cosima had wrangled over the years; she didn't need to be coddled, held, dusted off, rescued, or reassembled; Delphine had done that work already; she had made _herself_ whole by breaking away from her marriage.

Cosima twisted the pieces round in her mind. She remembered the intensity of Delphine's gaze as she rubbed her arms, helping her dry off. She remembered the awkwardness as Delphine's expression before she leaned in to land two disappointingly platonic kisses to the left and right of Cosima's cheeks, rather than at the corners of her mouth. She remembered the tight smile and labored nod of agreement that had accompanied her assurance that they might be friends. She remembered the ease with which Delphine had slid their mouths together; the sincerity with which she had spoken of beds and lovers; the surrender in her acquiescence to Cosima's requests. She remembered everything, she considered every angle, and the only interpretation that made sense was that she had been a fool.

Cosima kicked her blankets off in frustration; she thrust herself up out of bed and paced the floor, fists balled tight, knocking together at the knuckles in simmering regret. "Damn it!" she cursed at herself; questions flooded her mind. Had she destroyed her chances with Delphine? How could she broach the subject again? Could Delphine tolerate another complete and inexplicable reversal of Cosima's emotional energy? How many times might a person experience emotional whiplash before simply walking away.

How many times would she have allowed Emily back into her arms, her heart and her bed before refusing her forever? That was a question she knew the answer to immediately. She only hoped Delphine was a fraction as hopeless as she. That somehow Delphine might have pardoned her conceit and likewise be pacing holes in the carpet or lying in bed thinking fondly of…. _Cosima_; she heard her own name whispered on the westward wind. She knew it was a phantom, a hope filtered through perception, but also it sounded so clear, so familiar, so liltingly…._french_… that she could not settle until she had peeked out the window just to make sure Delphine had not come to her in a fever of confusion or, she permitted herself to dream, of desire.


End file.
